


Reservations

by veganconnor



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alana Beck & Connor Murphy Friendship - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Anxiety Disorder, Artist Connor, Bulimia, Coffee Shops, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy Get Along, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy Reconciliation, Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen) In Recovery, Connor Murphy Has a Crush on Evan Hansen, Depression, Established Relationship, Evan Hansen Has a Crush on Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen In Recovery, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Heidi's a good mom, I Promise It Gets Happier, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Making Out, Nonverbal Communication, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Addiction, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, connor drinks tea, connor has an eating disorder, evan drinks coffee, evan studies environmental science, evan's a good boyfriend, evan's doing pretty well, he has his moments but connor's the one spiraling for the most part, larry included, the murphys are trying their best, they'll be okay eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veganconnor/pseuds/veganconnor
Summary: Connor just wants to stop hurting people. He knows that it hurts Evan when he hurts himself so he tries a more subtle solution. Evan just wants his boyfriend to take care of himself.Or, the AU where Connor and Evan both make it to college and try their hardest to be okay--with questionable results.Title is from the song Reservations by Wilco.





	1. the sun came up with no conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing much of anything outside of journaling/assignments. this fic is very close to my heart; i love writing it and i really really hope you like reading it.  
> if you have an eating disorder and you're reading this to try to learn tips to get sicker (i see you. i've been there.) it's not and will never be worth it and i hope this fic helps you see that there is light and hope in recovery and you deserve to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: skipping meals, connor smokes weed
> 
> chapter title is from the song road to joy by bright eyes

It started innocently enough. He had been trying to cope. For Evan, mainly. Well, for himself, his therapist would chide him. “ _You can’t recover for someone else; you have to recover for yourself_.”

So maybe Evan was just a conduit for wanting to recover for himself. Evan made him feel like his life could be worth living, and a life worth living was a life worth recovering for. For himself. And for Evan. And for Zoe. So he tried his best to show up for therapy and do his schoolwork and not slice himself open out of frustration; it’s just that sometimes—his best wasn’t good enough.

Sometimes his best wasn’t that good at all. And he had let Evan flush his blades and using his fingernails wasn’t nearly as satisfying, and he sometimes he was embarrassed by just how much he missed feeling pain.

One week, after going to both of his therapy sessions and all but one of his classes, he got in bed Friday afternoon, smoked a joint, and fell asleep.

The weekend flew by in a haze. Saturday afternoon he went to see a movie with Evan, but he mostly stayed shut up in his room and it wasn’t until Sunday that he realized he hadn’t eaten in ages. Since Friday morning maybe? Or was it Thursday night? He started, wondering how he hadn’t noticed how long it'd been since he last ate, when it seemed the hunger was now demanding all of his attention. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing he cared enough to go buy something or order delivery. A bit later (according to his phone, over an hour later), he vaguely noticed that the pain was mostly gone. He kind of missed it. It was less severe than the adrenaline rush that came from a blade but it had at least distracted him from himself for a short while. Evan had been texting him all weekend and, while he had replied enough to keep him from worrying, he figured he should probably leave his room and actually talk to people.

He got up and pulled on his hoodie, remembering the cold front that had swept in over the past couple days, and headed out the door.

He walked across campus to Evans dorm, realizing as he knocked that he probably should have texted to let Evan know he was coming. He’d have to ask if him showing up unannounced stressed Evan out.

Evan opened the door and smiled. He looked a little tired, but his eyes lit up so Connor figured it was okay that he’d come over.

“Hi, baby! Didn’t realize you were coming over,” he said gently.

“Yeah I, sorry I probably should have. Like texted or something to let you know, I didn’t. I’m--” Connor mumbled until Evan interrupted, grabbing his hand

“Hey babe. It’s okay. I’m glad you came.”

It was a simple enough reassurance but it was enough for Connor, who shyly stepped in, raising Evan’s hand up and kissing it in response.

“You’re starting to apologize as much as I do,” Evan joked, turning back towards his bed where he had some work set up. Connor smiled a little but didn’t really reply. Evan clambered up onto his lofted bed and grabbed his laptop, patting the space next to him for Connor to come sit.

“You good babe?” he asked, glancing over at Connor, who eased himself onto the bed much more gracefully, aided by his long-ass legs. Connor settled in next to Evan before replying, slouching a bit to rest his head on Evan’s shoulder.

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

“One to ten?”

One to ten was a system they had developed a while back, when Connor had been hospitalized. It had started as a joke, with Evan saying that the psych ward of hospitals should have two 1-10 charts, one for physical pain and one for mental pain.

Then it had become a convenient way to check in with each other when parents or friends were around & one of them was worried about the other. One would flash one finger and then ten fingers, or sometimes whisper “one to ten?” and the other would reply with his number. It was also nice even when it was just the two of them, since Connor sometimes struggled to articulate how he was doing and Evan sometimes would get so stressed trying to explain himself _perfectly_ that he would get even more worked up.

Connor thought for a second, about how much trouble he’d had actually doing anything this weekend, and how he hadn’t really technically eaten, but he also felt like he was still gonna show up for classes and therapy this week. He finally settled on a 4.

“Four like three, or four like five?” Evan asked, messing around on his iCalendar to make Connor feel more comfortable. Connor didn’t love taking up attention or feeling like an inconvenience, so Evan tried to make him feel like he wasn’t distracting him from being productive.

“Four like five... but, not five?” Connor supplied. “What about you?” he added.

“Two like three.” Evan answered. Their numbers rarely ranged above 7 or 8, both of them tending to undersell their own struggles.

“What are you working on?” Connor asked, hoping to get Evan talking so his own silence was less obvious. And also, he loved hearing Evan talk.

“Well I have this paper for my sustainability class & it’s like kind of a big project, well, not that big like it’s not most of my grade or anything; I think it’s 15%, which is kind of a lot but not that much. Still, we’re going to be working on it for the next couple weeks and I don’t want to choose the wrong topic. So I’ve been researching but at the same time I don’t wanna have too many options because then I’ll never be able to choose one and I’ll spend all this time trying to pick a topic instead of actually getting work done researching said topic so I’m trying to make a list of 3 or 4 but I keep thinking I’ll find a better one if I just keep looking so I’m not sure if I should keep looking or just choose one of these?” he trailed off, looking down at his list of options.

“What about those cities that eat their own pollution or whatever?” Connor suggested.

“The what?” Evan laughed.

“No, you know, like the cities in China or wherever where they put a bunch of plants everywhere and it like. cancels out their impact or what’s it called?”

“the environmental footprint?” said Evan distractedly, googling _plant cities eat their own pollution_.

Connor nodded as Evan scrolled excitedly.

“Wait, this is like a real thing. Wait this is so cool! “Stefano Boeri designs a ‘vertical forest’ city to eat up China’s smog’” he read. “This is so cool, this is perfect! How did you know about this?” Evan asked.

Connor grinned a little, shrugging despite being slouched on Evan’s shoulder. Evan clicked on a few more links, making notes and compiling an email to his professor.

“I’m gonna submit this as my topic? And we don’t have to turn in an outline till Wednesday. So I’m gold for tonight. Wanna grab a bite to eat? We can just come back after and watch a movie or something?”

“I ate before I came over here” Connor was startled at how naturally the lie slid out, as though it hadn’t occurred to him to tell the truth. “You could order takeout though? I’ll go down and get it from the delivery guy.”

“I don’t. mind it so much anymore. Like, I can do it now,” said Evan, a little embarrassed.

“I know,” said Connor simply. “I’ll still get it for you though.”

Evan placed his order and they cuddled up together, turning on a show while they waited. Connor lay against the wall at the head of Evan’s bed, Evan between his legs lying back on his chest. He absentmindedly toyed with one of Evan’s hands in both of his own, tilting his head back against the wall and letting his eyes fall shut. He zoned out, startled back into reality a bit later when Evan shifted to grab his ringing phone. Realizing it was probably the delivery guy, he took the phone from Evan, grunting, “I’ll be right down.”

Connor didn’t care enough about what people thought to have anxiety about some stranger he’d never see again. He knew he had a fairly unfriendly demeanor; the delivery men rarely tried to initiate conversation.

His stomach grumbled loudly as the smell of Chinese food drifted up from the bag while he signed the receipt, and the delivery man chucked nervously. Connor didn’t bother to make eye contact. He left a decent tip though, and muttered his thanks as he turned away.

Evan beamed at him when he made his way back up to the room, kissing him on the cheek and pulling him back towards the bed. They settled back in, Connor reaching around Evan to turn the volume up a couple notches in case his stomach decided to keep making noises. Evan opened up his food and Connor tried to decide if the smell was nauseating or tantalizing. Evan offered him a bite of rice and he accepted, but the rice felt heavy and thick and he struggled to swallow, his throat closing up a bit. He declined the next time Evan offered.

Once Evan finished eating and set his food aside, they turned on a movie. He trailed his fingers up and down Evan’s arm until he felt his breathing start to even out. Once he was sure the boy was sound asleep, he gingerly extricated himself from underneath him, lying Evan’s head on the pillow.

He was almost at the door when he turned back around and pulled Evan’s blanket up around him, plugged in his laptop, and turned off the light. He wasn’t naturally the most nurturing person, but he was learning.

Once outside, he walked over to a small park in a discreet area of campus and plopped down on the bench. He responded to Zoe’s text asking him why he was being a little shit and not answering her facetime calls (he said it was genetic but he’d call her soon and added about twelve emojis just to piss her off), and pulled out his headphones.

He turned on King and Cross by Asgeir, and took a deep breath, shuddering a bit in the cool air. The hunger had returned, nagging him for food, and for answers. Why had he lied to Evan about having eaten? He hated lying to Evan and rarely did it anymore. Why hadn’t he eaten? Why had the bite of rice been so difficult to eat? Why did he feel some sick sense of motivation urging him to see how long he could go without eating?

He had his wax cartridge in his pocket and he took a couple hits before, pulling his hair out of his bun. He had a headache and having his hair pulled up wasn’t exactly helping. A couple hours later he finally made his way back to his dorm, turning on Bon Iver’s 22, A Million. The album looped a couple times as he stared at the ceiling, until he finally fell asleep fully clothed.


	2. we are nowhere and it's now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two! thank you thank u to everyone who read/left kudos/comments on the last chapter, love it love u all  
> trigger warnings: disordered eating behaviors (that's going to be pretty consistent throughout), mention of blood  
> i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything or if any of you have triggers you'd like me to be aware of for future chapters! i'm happy to tag anything.
> 
> chapter title is from we are nowhere and it's now by bright eyes.  
> (i listened to i'm wide awake, it's morning a lot while writing this fic)

Connor was pretty pleased with himself. He was sleeping better, he was controlling his temper, he was showing up for his classes, and he’d even called his mom to chat for a bit. It was Wednesday and he was on his way to his studio class. 

He never would have considered taking studio classes, but there had been an . . . incident in one of his classes last semester and it’d ended with him enrolling in an art class.

_He had Alana to blame for that one—he had one notebook that he brought to most of his classes the previous semester: a non-descript, black spiral bound one he’d picked up at target when his mom had taken him “school supply shopping.” Alana had a different color spiral bound notebook for each class, but of course the one class they had together, writing 150, was the class she used her black notebook for. One day in their spring semester of last year, Connor had pulled out his notebook for the sake of appearances and dropped his head onto his arms. Okay so maybe he wasn’t all that concerned with appearances but he was having a bad day and at least he’d still shown up._

_Alana had assigned herself to the seat next to him the first week of class and Connor never moved, so they’d gone from acquaintances with mutual friends to close acquaintances who spent time together twice a week without any of their other said mutual friends there to provide a buffer. They never really talked but Connor occasionally would glance over to see her smile encouragingly at him or she'd text him to remind him of an important assignment._

_About halfway through the class, Alana nudged him. “Connor these are really good!” she whispered excitedly. Raising his head, he saw her flipping through the pages of his black notebook._

_His black notebook. The one he’d always draw in if there was no one sitting around him in his classes. The one that was over halfway full with drawings, shitty drawings that weren’t even good, that no one was supposed to see._

_He jumped up out of his seat, snatching the notebook from her hands. “What do you think you’re doing??” he snapped loudly, causing half their lecture to turn and look at him._

_Alana’s eyes widened and she glanced around frantically, trying to figure out how to calm Connor and deal with the fact that at least fifty people were looking at the two of them._

_“Connor I’m sorry, please, sit down, Connor I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to, I thought, I thought it was mine!” she whispered desperately._

_He grabbed his bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind him._

_Zoe called him later, yelling at him about how Alana had called her in tears, and he hung up on her. He furiously punched the side of the building, which did absolutely no damage to the brick wall but broke the skin on three of his knuckles and left little pieces of brick embedded in the cuts._

_It came to a climax when he went over to Evan’s room and the first thing Evan said was, “I didn’t know you could draw!! Alana texted me something you showed her in class--”_

_He’d lost it._

_“I didn’t show her anything! She fucking looked through my shit she had NO right what the fuck what do you mean she texted you a picture?? she took fucking pictures?! What kind of fucking invasion of privacy and somehow this is my fucking fault?? Zoe’s mad at me and I didn’t FUCKING do anything!” he’d been slowly getting louder and more frustrated until he was yelling and gesticulating wildly, waving his arms angrily. Through the haze of red, he saw Evan shrinking back, stepping away from him like a scared puppy._

_He clamped his mouth shut instantly, his breathing still heavy._

_Evan stepped forward and, slowly, like any sudden movement might set Connor off again, reached out his hand. Connor stayed mute, paralyzed by the fear he could see in Evan’s eyes. Fear of him._

_Evan grabbed his bad hand and Connor sucked in a tiny breath through his teeth, his jaw clenching. Evan glanced up at Connor and then glanced down, gently turning Connor’s hand over in his and seeing the broken skin across his knuckles. Evan’s eyebrows drew together and he exhaled a bit, frowning and then glancing up once more at Connor, who avoided his gaze._

_He wrapped his fingers around Connor's wrist and led him to the tiny bathroom, turning on the tap and gently pulling his hand under the stream. Connor didn’t flinch as the dried blood washed away, exposing the cuts. Evan left his boyfriend for a moment and Connor stood helplessly, pulling his hand from the stream and resting it against the edge of the sink. The cuts stung, aggravated a bit by the water._

_Evan returned a moment later with one of the old first aid kits his mom had from the hospital that she had packed for him. Closing the door behind him, he approached Connor and looked up at him but Connor stubbornly stared past him, his face blank and impassive. Evan ran his hand up and down Connor’s other arm over his hoodie, trying to comfort and ground him a bit. Then he turned and opened the kit, pulling out some hydrogen peroxide. “_

_This might sting a bit, babe, I’m sorry.” Connor gave no indication that he had heard and didn’t flinch at all when Evan poured a little over his hand. Evan held Connor’s bad hand firmly, as he finished treating the injured knuckles. He carefully wrapped and taped Connor's hand, taping the gauze and placing a light kiss over the bandage. He stepped forward, letting Connor's hand fall, and dropped his head into Connor's chest, closing his eyes. They stood their for a moment, Evan feeling his head bob with Connor's light breathing. Finally he pulled away, leading the way back. When they were back in Evan’s room, Evan paused and then opened his mouth._

_“I’m sorry she looked through your notebook, babe.”_

_Connor scoffed but Evan pressed on._

_“I didn’t know you didn’t want me to see, and you know Alana didn’t mean any harm. And, now you probably think that like, Zoe took Alana’s side over you, but she didn’t know the whole story, and Alana probably just feels bad and--”_

_“Don’t,” Connor muttered._

_"Don’t what?”_

_“Be sorry.” He clenched his jaw, staring at his feet. His neck was flushed and his voice was low. “You’re not the one who went apeshit and punched a wall and stormed out of a lecture and yelled at his boyfriend and threw a fucking temper tantrum cause just cause he couldn’t take a fucking joke.” He spat out the last word and finally looked up, only to see confusion written all over Evan’s face._

_“Take a joke? What do you mean take a . . .” he paused as realization dawned on him. “Oh. Babe, do you think we were making fun of you?”_

_“Well like I know I’m shit at drawing, and I probably shouldn’t even do it but sometimes it just fucking distracts me or some shit. I know it’s -st-stupid,” he stumbled over his words in frustration._

_Evan took a breath, trying to meet Connor’s eyes as Connor stubbornly continued to avert his gaze._

_“It’s not. It’s not stupid. Even if you were shit at it, it wouldn’t be stupid but babe, I know I’m not supposed to have seen, but you’re really,” he paused, “you’re really fucking good.”_

_Connor slowly glanced up, still guarded but meeting Evan’s gaze. Evan only cursed when he was completely in earnest._

_After a little (a lot) of convincing, Connor finally accepted that maybe he wasn’t half-bad, and maybe Alana hadn’t been making fun of him. He apologized to Alana, who started crying again, and Zoe apologized to him, kinda, and eventually they’d all convinced him to enroll in an entry level studio class._

So here he was, six months later, finding himself reluctantly drawn into this world. He loved the easels and the big windows and the way it was one of the only places he had ever found where you could sit in a room with other people for three hours without talking to them but without having to focus on some professor or movie commanding everyone’s attention. Everyone in the class was caught up in their own projects, yet there was still a strong sense of community.

His professor had suggested they bring headphones; she was always going on about the connection between all different forms of art, from music to paintings to nature to poetry and prose, and she encouraged that they allow their music to impact their artistic choices. Her only requirement if you did bring headphones to class was that you gave her a list of at least three songs that you felt had a significant impact on your piece when you turned it in.  

Their current assignment was something about using mark-making to illustrate the illusion of space through value and light. He’d chosen a forest as his reference, not because Evan loved trees, but.

Well.

Yeah.

Because Evan loved trees.

But he also hated the tediousness of drawing architecture, and the branches and leaves provided much more texture and freedom.

He always sat next to the same girl; they rarely talked, but she seemed cool. Her name was Hattie, and the only thing he knew about her was that she really, really, really loved music. Sometimes she’d walk into class, tell him he absolutely needed to listen to a certain album, and that was the extent of their conversation. She’d recommended James Blake’s The Colour in Anything when she’d seen his reference picture, and he’d been listening to it the for the past few classes.

The class went by fairly quickly and Evan called him when it got out, asking if he wanted to meet up at the dining hall. He agreed without really thinking about it, and went through the motions when he arrived, swiping his ID and mindlessly grabbing a plate of food. After all, it’d been more than a couple days since he had eaten a full meal so it was about time he actually ate.

There was some sort of enchilada dish that looked like one of the better options, and as he and Evan sat down in one of the more secluded corners, his stomach grumbled loudly.

Evan grinned.

“Hungry?” he asked, eyes twinkling. Connor tried to laugh along casually, but quickly changed the subject, asking Evan if his professor had liked his proposal.

He lit up “Oh she loved it! She said she was hoping someone would do that, but she didn’t want to suggest it because she wants everyone to do a different topic! And she gave me this cool book that talks about how different plants can absorb different toxins or sometimes they don’t even absorb it, they just produce byproducts that combat the harmful effects, and even reverse them!”

Connor smiled (a little dopily) (but in a cool way) at his boyfriend, nodding along and trying to distract himself as he ate his enchiladas. He’d gotten a large helping, weirdly paranoid that Evan was going to randomly start noticing or caring how much he was eating, and as soon as he started eating, his instincts, tired of being denied food, took over, and before he knew it he’d finished the whole plate.

They only had about a half hour between Connor’s studio class and Evan’s biology class, since Evan liked to be early to his classes and Connor was normally late getting out of studio. Before he knew it, Evan was grabbing his bag and kissing him on the cheek and Connor was left staring at his empty plate with a weight in his stomach.

He’d eaten so much. And now he could physically feel it pressing into his stomach, his body overwhelmed by so much food after the past few days of nothing. He made his way to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror and feeling disconnected from his environment. His reflection stared back at him and he shook his head a little, trying to clear the fog.

He locked himself in a stall and took a piss before sitting on the grimy floor and pulling his knees in to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and dropping his head down. He didn’t want to walk back out into the cafeteria; it was too loud and silverware was clanking and people were talking _much_ louder than necessary and he dug his nails into his fists, taking a shuddering breath. A couple minutes later he got up, unlocked the door and strode out of the cafeteria as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. His bag knocked a girl’s purse off of its perch on the back of her chair but he didn’t stop.

“Asshole,” he heard her friend mutter and he fumbled frantically in his pocket for his headphones as he shoved through the door with his shoulder. Once outside, he got his headphones situated and his hood pulled up and he took a few deep breaths as his feet automatically carried him toward his next class. It didn’t start for another hour, but the hallways in that building were always filled with students sitting on the ground between classes so he never worried about standing out if he got there early.

He turned up his music when he arrived, sliding down the wall and onto the floor about 20 feet from the door of his classroom. He pulled out his book and stared uncomprehendingly at the pages, trying to feel real, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling farther isolating him from reality.

Before he knew it he’d made his way to his seat and the professor began teaching.

"Time flies when you’re disassociating,” he thought blithely, taking out one of his headphones to listen to the professor. He went through the motions of paying enough attention that he actually absorbed some of the material.

His therapist had told him that it didn’t have to be all or nothing. It didn’t have to be show up _and_ take notes _and_ participate _and_ ask questions or just don’t show up at all; he could show up and just try to listen for most of the class and maybe that was enough sometimes.  

Evan had his 3-hour biology lab that day, so Connor went back to his dorm, feeling antsy.

He changed into shorts and a t-shirt and headed out, breaking into a jog when he got outside. Connor hadn’t ever really been one for running, or working out in general, but something tugged him along toward the jogging path along the river near campus and he followed along, turning up his music.

Moments later he felt his chest tighten up, begging for air. He pushed through, kept going, and a couple songs later he passed a threshold, the once aggressive pain now dull and pounding. His heart pounded in time with his feet hitting the pavement, and he knew he was going slowly but he kept going, his legs aching and his stomach clenching.

Finally, he stumbled over to the side of the path, putting his hands on his knees and heaving. His stomach hurt, heavy with the Mexican food he’d eaten earlier, and he coughed a little, gagging and spitting. His body was screaming at him, for withholding food and then for eating so much all at once and then immediately working out for the first time in ages, and he retched, tasting bile in his mouth. The foul taste made him gag and he was throwing up, heaving and coughing and gagging and then it was over. He spat, wiped his mouth with his arm and stood up, suddenly exhausted. He noticed dusk beginning to set in and decided to head back, walking at first but, impatient and cold and sweaty in the chilly night, he soon broke into a run despite his body’s protests. The more he kept going the less he noticed the pain. It didn’t exactly hurt less, he just cared less. So he jogged and jogged until his building came back into view, slowing to a walk and breathing hard.

He took a shower, feeling the sweat and the cold and the stress wash away in the hot water. The spout in the dorm showers was about eye level, so he had to crouch to feel the water pour down over his head but he took a few breaths, feeling calmer than he had all day.

That night he and Evan did homework in Evan’s dorm, both a little quieter than usual but comfortable in the other’s presence. He smoked on his walk back from Evan’s dorm, sitting on a bench under the night sky until he felt the high wear off.

He managed to get away with not eating for the next two days, but found himself thinking about food more and more, noticing for the first time just how prevalent it was.

Everywhere he looked it was there. Fast food restaurants he had never noticed before now leered at him, everyone in his classes seemed to be suddenly pulling grapes or chips or pastries out of their bags in the middle of class, and he found himself fantasizing about his mom’s cooking, which he’d once not even cared for.

One night he found himself standing in the gas station near campus, staring at the Hostess chocolate donuts. Those weren’t even hardly food, but remembered one godforsaken year when they’d been driving to Colorado, he and Zoe had each gotten to pick out snacks at one of the gas stations and Zoe had grabbed the last of the chocolate donuts. He didn’t even like them much, but he’d thrown a fit, yelling at her and trying to grab them. He was tired and irritated and he’d taken it out on her, finally yanking her hair so hard she’d burst into tears and their dad had come running. He’d grabbed Connor by the collar and dragged him outside, getting in his face and yelling about being civilized and you will not embarrass me in public like that again do I make myself clear young man LOOK ME IN THE EYES WHEN IM talking to you and it’d gone on and on until at last, Connor’d started crying. He’d only been about eight or nine, but in his dad’s mind apparently that was far too old to be in tears over anything, and it’d made things so much worse. His father thrown his hands in the air, railing on about how he’d ended up with such a pussy for a son and Connor glanced to the side, hiccupping and wiping his eyes on his sleeves.

Inside the gas station, he saw his mom standing with her arms wrapped around Zoe from behind as they stared through the window of the gas station. The rainbow of the packages, neon lighting in the window, and the gentle pose contrasted so harshly with the dreary parking lot of the gas station surrounding him and his father’s threatening figure that he’d only cried harder and his dad had gotten in his face and yelled louder until he finally gulped back his tears and stopped crying.

By the time they all got back in the car Zoe had felt so bad for him she’d slipped him the chocolate donuts. It actually made him feel a little better.

He hadn’t cried since that night.

He stared at the chocolate donuts, grabbing them and a bag of BBQ chips as well. He didn’t like most chips but he liked those. He glanced around, feeling as though he were about to get caught, and quickly checked out. Once he got back to his dorm he practically inhaled the donuts, taking bites before he’d even swallowed and sighing happily. He ate the chips next, slowing down to drink some water when his mouth felt dry.

Moments later he stared at the empty packages and shook his head. It was only two snacks, he tried to tell himself. When he went through his first growth spurt in 8th grade he’d eaten this much food every hour. But his stomach ached, finally full but sick with the overly processed donuts and chips. He lay in bed, feeling sick, thinking vaguely that he was going to have to come up with a better plan. If he didn’t eat at all he felt great but then he was so hungry that he’d end up eating way too much. He decided to try eating throughout the day to hopefully keep things more under control. He felt a headache coming on and he threw himself into his work until he eventually fell asleep surrounded by his books and open laptop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u thank u thank u for reading! means the world and more, seriously. 
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr! (veganconnor)


	3. in all chaos there is calculation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: disordered eating (as always), specifically self-induced vomiting.   
> also if you ever want to skip a chapter due to potential triggers, message me on tumblr (veganconnor) and i'm happy to send you a summary of the chapter!
> 
> chapter title is from glory and gore by lorde

Connor developed a routine—on days where he and Evan couldn’t have lunch together, he’d snack on Clif bars (his mom had bought those in bulk before when he moved in) and baby carrots and that smartfood popcorn, which for some reason he felt okay eating. He also got a bag of flour tortillas that he kept in his dorm because for when he needed to have something a little more substantial.

On days where he did eat with Evan—well, he hadn’t quite figured that one out yet. He’d tried eating just a salad but Evan had been concerned and he’d had to make something up about grabbing a breakfast biscuit from Chik-fil-a before his last class. Then he’d tried getting what Evan got and just not finishing it but Evan had asked even more questions and, well. He was hoping to come up with a solution soon.

He was getting better at bullshitting his therapy sessions, which he felt guilty about, but he simply didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could exactly say " _hey I found something that makes me not yell at people and makes me not cut myself the only downside is I’m constantly hungry and I’ve a headache that never really goes away?_ " Yeah. That’d go over well.

So here he was, over a week since he’d thrown up on his run. It was Friday and he was leaving his studio class to meet Evan at the dining hall. He was trying to brainstorm a better way to get away with sticking to his new plan without worrying Evan. Taking a deep breath he walked into the dining hall, swiping his ID.

He texted Evan, “m here” and walked over to their normal booth in a more secluded area. He was hyperaware of his surroundings. There were so many people in here all sitting and eating and talking and laughing and  _eating,_ and it couldn’t be that hard. He was just gonna turn his brain off and _eat_  and figure something else out later. He swung his bag into the booth and perched on the edge, checking his phone.

from: Evan

“Walking in! Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Connor stood, clasping his hands behind his back and peering out, looking for a spot of blue weaving his way through the crowd. He liked standing like this—he never knew where to put his hands, but then he’d end up fumbling with the hem of his hoodie or picking at his nail polish, and then he felt like he looked nervous and weak, so he’d adopted this as his go to. It also pulled his shoulders back, counteracting his tendency to hunch over. Finally, he spotted Evan, apologizing to everyone he brushed past. He smiled a little and Evan looked up, waving a little.

“hi.”

“hi.”

Evan stood in front of him, leaning up to give him a quick peck and then blushing. They weren’t big on PDA in crowded public spaces but Connor looked really tall and pretty, and no one was really looking, and Evan couldn’t help himself. Connor brought his hand under Evan’s chin and tilted his head up, kissing him once more.

“Let’s go get food?” Connor suggested, trying to ignore his stomach lurching at the thought.

They headed out, glancing at the menu. Jerk chicken with potatoes, make-your-own Mongolian stir fry, and a mac n cheese. Connor’s eyes swept up and down the list trying to decide which option he could maybe consider.

None.

None of them.

He hated jerk chicken, the stir fry was enormous, and mac n cheese always made his stomach hurt. Connor had never considered himself a picky person but damn. He swallowed.

“I kinda think I want a sandwich,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant and striding away before he could worry about if Evan reacted. In all three of the campus dining halls there was a sandwich bar and a salad bar. He spread the peanut butter around the edges so it would look like he’d put quite a bit inside. He spread a layer of jelly on the other piece and put them together, slicing it diagonally and trying to ignore his hand shaking.

It’s just a sandwich.

It’s just a sandwich.

The sandwich looked too small for the plate so he grabbed a bag of chips, hoping he could leave them unopened under the guise of saving them for later. He met Evan back at the table and they chatted a bit, Connor turning on as much personality as he could muster. He knew Evan didn’t mind that he was mostly pretty quiet, but he didn’t want any silences for Evan to stop and notice how slowly he was chewing, or how every bite seemed to be sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“ ’d I ever tell you about the time I skied over Zoe’s head?” he said conversationally, and Evan almost spit out his drink.

“You WHAT? Connor, what? When was this? Was she okay? How do you ski over someone’s head?? It wasn’t on purpose was it??”

“No she’s fine, it was forever ago, and no it wasn’t on purpose. If anything it was her fault for being a shitty skier.” He smirked a bit.

“Doesn’t sound like you were too great either,” retorted Evan, trying for sassy but then biting his lip a little. He was always so worried about accidentally offending people, not because he did it often but because when he did, it haunted his thoughts well.. forever.

“Well okay so basically our parents just shipped us off with a private instructor so they could go ski all day. Problem with the private instructors is that they’re only there because they only care about skiing and living in colorado is expensive as fuck. So we’d cycle through new ones each year cause they all hated us, and we hated them because tried to make us believe stupid made-up shit like the warehouse under that one lift actually being a chocolate factory.”

He wished Zoe was here. Zoe was great at storytelling: her timing was perfect, she was exuberant and charismatic and captivating and Connor could probably not eat anything if she was here telling the story. He forced himself to swallow as Evan waited for him to go on. Details. Zoe always gave lots of details that Connor never thought were important but when she mentioned them her stories came alive.

“So this year our instructor was just kind of a dick, some crusty college kid who probably watched anime whenever he wasn't skiing."

"Connor, you watch anime."

"Okay fuck you, you know what I mean. Anyway, he’d just ski to the bottom and wait for us and then hustle us back onto the lifts so we could do as many runs as possible. But he would get pissed that we weren’t going fast enough, especially when the lifts were about to close and he wanted to do a couple more runs. So Zoe and I sat on the little two person lift and plotted to beat him down the next run just to spite him, cause he was in the chair behind us. So we get to the top and we both take off and Zoe just goes. Like. straight down. And she was in front of me and I think she was scared that she was going too fast, cause she started turning so she could slow down, but then her ski caught a rock or something and she just. Wiped out. Absolute fucking yard sale.

Oh a yard sale’s like, when all your skis and poles come off and are all scattered,” he elaborated at Evan’s confusion. He wondered briefly if it was shitty of him to be telling a skiing story when Evan’s family had never gone to the mountains but he brushed that aside, figuring it was too late now and the story was actually working pretty well as a distraction tactic. He hadn't taken a bite in at least five minutes and Evan's plate was half-empty.

“But I hadn’t turned since the top of the slope, so at this point I’m fucking flying. And I guess neither of us were really good enough to be going that fast on that run, cause I was totally out of control and she was right in front of me, wiped out and before I knew it I’d skied over her head and I just kinda toppled myself over to see if she was okay, and at this point Toby catches up and he’s yelling at us and I’m freaking out cause Zoe’s just kinda on the ground blinking not moving much, and I think I mainly hit her helmet but finally she really slowly got up and I grabbed one of her poles and stuck it out in front of her and she just reached for it and completely  _missed_. And then she did it again, grabbed and missed. And I’m like fuuuck she’s gonna have brain damage forever so then I start yelling at Toby about how he’s a shitty instructor and this is his fault and he’s yelling about how he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with such dramatic brats and Zoe’s back on her skies but still looking completely dazed and he’s yammering about how we need to hurry to do another run before the lift closes but I’m convinced that Zoe’s gonna like die or something so I just kinda. Wiped out every couple of seconds for the rest of the run so that by the time we get to the end of it there’s not time to do another run and, yeah.”

Evan looks totally captivated.

“You never tell me stories about when you were younger! That’s amazing, you were such a good brother! I mean, other than skiing over her head but it’s not like you meant to. Wow that sounds so fun, I know you don’t like skiing but. . .”

He trailed off a bit and Connor tried to keep his expression from darkening. Yeah, it sounds fun, but his dad had yelled at him; his dad was _always_ yelling at him, and Zoe would always be super well-behaved for, like, the last hour to make the instructor like her so then they’d just tell his parents how awful Connor had been, and he wasn’t even that good at skiing and over the next couple years Zoe had gotten way better than him and then when he was 12 the Harrises had started coming along and Simon and Saxon had been way better cause they had a house in Colorado and they would always run into him and he just. Hated it. He looked down at his sandwich and took another, tiny bite.

He could do it.

He could finish it.

“I’ll take you skiing sometime,” he offered impulsively, his mouth a still little full.

“I, you, what? I mean, I don’t have, I’ve never.. where would we even? And you hate skiing?”

“yeah. With my family and the Harrises. But you would love it and I would. . . probably not hate it if I were with you. Cause it’s really pretty I guess, once you get up there? I think you’d like it. I mean we don’t have to but maybe one day?”

“I mean, yeah, maybe, I just don’t know how .. maybe” Evan looked uncomfortable and all of the sudden Connor felt like shit. Skiing was fucking expensive and it’s not like Evan would just let him pay for it.

This was why he didn’t fucking talk cause he always said some thoughtless shit and fuck.

“Forget I mentioned it,” he muttered.

“No I mean, it’s a nice idea, like,”

“I said forget it,” he snapped, grabbing his bag and his plate.

He took his plate to the conveyor belt, setting it down with the unopened bag of chips still on there, and glanced behind him, seeing Evan sitting there like a lost puppy. He briefly considered going back, but fuck it, he’d only make things worse. He shouldered his way out the door, feeling panic bubble up in his throat.

Okay. Fuck. Fuck.

He’d eaten the whole fucking sandwich, and he’d been an ass to Evan and it was a lot fucking colder than he’d thought it was going to be. The wind whipped at his face and seeped through his clothes and he saw this weird auditorium that was technically a part of the law school but was mostly used for undergrad lectures. He went inside and saw a few students milling around the small lobby, filling up their water bottles at the fountain between the bathrooms. To his left there was a staircase down and he took it down two steps at a time, finding a small alcove with more bathrooms, a janitor’s closet, and a broken down vending machine.

He went into the bathroom, thinking about the nicer bathrooms just above him. Clearly most people didn’t come down here. Fuck. He felt awful and he was panicking about having eaten so much and. He collapsed on his knees in front of the toilet, grabbing the edge. Before he knew it he was pulling his hair into a bun and pushing his sleeve up and shoving his hand into his mouth. He scratched aimlessly at the back of his throat with two fingers, unsure of how this worked. Gagging a bit and panicking even more he pushed his fingers deep into his throat, shocked at how much it hurt. He pulled his hand out instinctively and rested it on the rim, spitting into the bowl and looking hopelessly at a strand of saliva that was dangling from his hand where it rested over the water. He took a deep breath and tried again, this time coughing up a small amount of food. Jesus fuck, how did people do this? The bile burned his throat and it hurt like hell, but he tried again and again and _again_ , until finally he coughed up a bit more. He kept going, his stomach and esophagus clenching painfully, until he’d coughed up a fair amount of food. He looked into the bowl, disgusted and frustrated. That wasn’t even half of what he’d eaten, but he couldn’t convince himself to keep going.

This was a million times worse than when he’d thrown up on his run or any other time he’d thrown up naturally. He blinked and touched his face with the back of his clean hand. There were tears streaking his face; the force of it had pushed them from his eyes though he hadn’t truly cried. He took a shaking breath, spitting into the toilet again. He grabbed the cheap, thin toilet paper and tried to wipe the vomit off his hand. Finally standing up, he washed his hands and tried to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. A couple strands had escaped from his bun and he washed his hands once more before yanking out his hair tie and letting his hair tumble down. Part of him felt better, but he mostly felt worse. Maybe a little calmer? But overall so much worse. He texted his therapist, cancelling his appointment for that afternoon and hoping he’d be able to get away with it. Then he pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and put in his headphones as he headed back out into the cold, hoping The National would drown out some of his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry it's been so long since the last update; my schedule is crazy, and honestly I got a little discouraged by the lack of feedback.   
> If you have left feedback, thank you so much, it means the world to have people react positively to something so personal that I've created, and if you are interested in seeing more of this please leave comments or kudos because I'm not sure I'll be able to motivate myself to make the time to post if I don't feel like people are interested.   
> Hope you all had a good thanksgiving!


	4. fire away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the comments on my last chapter, they made me so happy and i decided to go ahead and post another chapter for y'all!   
> trigger warnings: panic attacks, i think that's it?   
> this one's a little shorter (just under 2k) 
> 
> chapter title is from fire away by niall horan (which is incidentally a great song to listen to while you read this chapter)

Connor woke with a start, his heart racing with the paranoia that often met him right as he awoke from a bad dream. The already tenuous details began to slip away and he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the voice that was nagging that someone or something bad was in his room. He grabbed his phone and saw a text from Evan.

“please com e over” 

It’d been sent at 1:43. His eyes flicked up to the top of his screen for the time; his clock read 2:06. 

He was up in a heartbeat, leaping out of bed. He was ready to grab his shit and run out the door, but immediately, he stumbled. 

He closed his eyes as black spots danced in his line of vision, grabbing onto his bed and feeling the blood rush to catch up to his brain.  

He took a deep breath and blinked a couple times, shaking his head to clear his mind, then remembered what he was doing. Ignoring the lingering lightheadedness, he grabbed his hoodie and shoved his feet in his boots, heading out the door and breaking into a jog once he passed the security guard and broke into the cool night air. 

Once he reached Evan’s building he made his way up and knocked gently on the door to announce himself before pushing his way in. His heart dropped a little at the sight. Evan was curled up on his side with his head near the base of his bed. His eyes were shut, but they were squeezed too tight, a sure sign he was awake. Connor could see the dried tear tracks in the shitty light provided by the desk lamp. 

He tried to say I’m here, thinking it would sound comforting, but his voice was scratchy with sleep and it came out sort of a “m ‘ere” grunt. Evan opened his eyes a little, still breathing deeply. 

They’d been dating for quite a while now, but Evan so rarely was able to ask for help when he had an panic attack that Connor hadn’t been there to help him through very many. 

“Um, did you take your meds?" he said, clearing his throat a little. There was a beat, and then Evan gave a small nod. 

“Good job, E, that’s, um. That’s really good.” Shit, he was bad at this. Trying to not think too hard about what he was doing or if he might do something wrong, he maneuvered his way behind Evan and began doing what felt the most instinctive, which happened to be stroking Evan’s back gently. He scratched his nails gently over Evan’s tshirt, noticing just how uneven the boy’s breathing was. 

He gave it a couple minutes and when his breathing was still concerning—staccato at times and then held in for far too long—he nudged Evan.  

“I’m gonna hold you,” he said, trying to sound confident. “c’mere.” 

He helped Evan sit up, and then scooted against the wall, manhandling him a bit until he was pulled against Connor. Connor crossed his arms in an x over Evan’s chest, pulling him tightly into his own chest. Their legs were a bit tangled but they could figure that out in a minute.  

“Try to breathe with me. Like, er...focus on me underneath you breathing, and try to do that.” He was so fucking bad at this; he desperately pressed a quick kiss to Evan's temple and wished with everything in him that he was good with words and could say all the right things to calm Evan down and make him feel safe, but for now he just had to try his best. 

He very gently pulled his arms tighter around Evan as he exhaled and then released just a bit of pressure as he inhaled.

“You’re okay, I promise,” he breathed into Evan’s hair. They were empty words but Connor tried to say them with meaning, tried to make it true. After a few minutes, Evan’s breathing evened out a bit and Connor took started to loosen his grip and scoot back, until Evan started violently shaking his head and breathing faster again at the lack of contact. 

“Oh okay, okay, sorry yeah,” Connor muttered, wrapping Evan back up and rather harshly pressing a kiss to the back of the boy’s head. 

They sat there, Connor's arms locked across Evan's chest in near silence. Moments later, he heard a sniffling sound, and then another and Evan was just crying now, calm, no longer panicking, but just quietly crying. Connor moved them so Evan’s legs draped over one of his and they could face each other a bit more. The sight broke his heart. Evan’s bottom lip was trembling as tears ran gently down his cheeks. His eyes were cast towards his lap, where his hands were curled. Connor could see him picking at the skin on the inside of his thumb nail with his forefinger; tearing little hangnails off. He wasn’t violently shaking anymore but his hands were still trembling and Connor reached toward Evan’s lap, gently pulling Evan’s forefinger away from his thumb and bringing Evan’s hand up to stroke the back of it. He had one arm around Evan’s back, holding Evan into his chest and the other holding Evan’s hand. Evan completely curled into him; he pulled his legs in and let his head drop to rest on Connor’s chest. 

Connor waited a beat, letting them both rest as he absentmindedly ran his thumb over Evan’s knuckles, and then nudged Evan’s head up. He let go of Evan’s hand and hesitated before cupping Evan’s cheek, wiping the tears away gently with his thumb. 

Connor could feel the concern written across his face; his eyebrows were drawn together and he was biting the inside of his lip. He stared into Evan’s shining eyes, searching for something helpful to say.

“Hi” _R_ _eally, connor? Hi?? Your boyfriend has a fucking panic attack and finally comes to you and you can’t say anything helpful you just say fucking hi? What about 'are you okay'? Or 'what’s wrong'? Or something, anything, else. Hi. Fuck._

Evan swallowed.

“Hi,” he half-whispered.

“Um. One to ten?” 

Evan’s face fell a bit.

“It should be like, a three. Or a two, its _nothing_ I’m sorry, I don’t know why this happened but then it happened and it wasn’t stopping and its  _stupid! I’m_ stupid—“

“I don’t care what it should be,” Connor said earnestly, skimming the pad of his thumb back and forth slowly across Evan’s cheek, trying to keep him from getting worked up again. “Whatever it is, it’s not stupid. You’re not stupid, baby, just tell me how you’re feeling. One to ten. Not how you think you  _should_  be feeling, just how you  _are_ feeling.”

Evan looked into Connor's eyes, doubtful, and found nothing but adoration mixed with concern staring back at him. No disgust or annoyance. He took a deep breath. 

“Um. Probably uh-I don’t know, maybe--maybe a five, I guess?” 

Five. Okay, five wasn’t great but it wasn’t too bad. Evan almost always said four or below but there had been sixes and a couple sevens, so Connor just nodded. It was gonna be okay. 

“Um. Can we. . I think we should talk about it? Can you talk about it, Ev?” He moved his hand from Evan’s cheek to curl around the back of his neck, squeezing ever so slightly. 

“I, uh-"  

“It’s not stupid, whatever it is,”

Evan took a shuddering breath and nodded a bit to himself.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t even just any one thing; I just was thinking about how like. people don’t like me? Like, in high school, there’s all these people that I knew, but they just didn’t like me, and I couldn’t talk to them without just being so _annoying_ and _weird,_ and I can’t talk to people? Or be normal? And like, it’s whatever, but I hate that they probably still think about how dumb they think I am and how there’s all these people that think I’m so useless and it’s just like. I kind of am useless? And what if I never do  _anything_  and everyone I meet is just always gonna be like 'wow yikes he makes me uncomfortable' and then I was just thinking about how I’ll die one day and the only thing I’ll have done is made people uncomfortable my whole life and I don’t,” he hiccupped a bit, “I don’t  _want_  that! My dad left, and I know everybody has shitty dads but mine literally just went off and raised someone else’s kids? It’s not that he didn’t want to be a dad he just didn’t want to be  _my_  dad?? He was fine being someone else’s dad and what does that say about me? What if I’m just doomed to be inherently  _worthless_  my whole life?” His voice cracked and he started crying again. 

Not the frantic crying from before or the kind of calm, resigned tears from a moment ago, but something that was somehow worse. 

He was just heartbroken, hopeless, and too exhausted to cry fiercely. He crumbled into Connor’s chest and Connor held him, resting his chin on Evan’s hair and pressing kisses into the top of his head between mumbled words of comfort.  

“You’re okay I’ve got you... you’re so amazing, you don’t even know...your dad’s a piece of shit, he doesn’t fucking deserve you...he doesn’t know what he’s missing, none of those fuckers know what they’re missing when they write you off...it’s their loss, Ev, they don’t ever get to see you like I see you, but I  _see_  you, Evan, I see you. I know it’s not much, I know it’s not enough. But you’re not what they think of you. You’re more than that. You’re what you  _are,_  not what people think.”  

Connor knew he was just rambling at this point, but he spoke quietly, slowly, hoping the intonation could at least comfort Evan even if he wasn’t particularly articulate. He pulled out his phone and pulled up his Spotify. 

“here, sweetheart, listen.”

He put on Vienna by Billy Joel and pulled Evan in so Evan’s legs were on either side of Connor and they were finally facing each other. Connor held Evan’s head in his hands and kissed his forehead, shutting his eyes tight before pulling Evan into him, one arm rubbing up and down his back and the other cradling his head. 

  
_Slow down, you crazy child_

_You’re so ambitious for a juvenile_

_But then if you’re so smart tell me, why are you still so afraid?_

_Where’s the fire, what’s the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out_

_You’ve got so much to do but only so many hours in a day._

Connor held them together until they both fell asleep, listening to Billy Joel. 

 

_When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for reading! comments genuinely make me happier than i can even begin to tell you because all i want to do in life is create things that mean a lot to people and the fact that this seems to be doing that for even just a couple people is so surreal, so thank you from the bottom of my heart if you take the time to leave feedback.


	5. silent as the star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long one for y'all! I'm sorry in advance for the cliff hanger :)
> 
> tw: yelling, working out as an unhealthy coping mechanism, disordered eating
> 
> chapter title is from i heard the party by gem club

Connor awoke early the next morning, Evan draped unceremoniously over him and snoring a bit. He wriggled out from underneath him and rolled off the bed, walking back to his dorm. The air was crisp and foggy, and he could see a few of the leaves starting to change.

He still had a few hours till his first class so he pulled on shorts and a sweatshirt and headed down to the river again, breaking into a jog. Pretty soon his breathing sharpened and he glanced up at the trees criss-crossing the sky over the running path. He always felt like his lungs would burst and his legs would collapse underneath him for the first 10 minutes or so, but if he pressed through, he always crossed a threshold where the pain was number, demanding less of his attention. He still wasn’t fast by any means, but he felt calm, sane, pushing on beat after beat. It was tedious in a gentle way. He continued on for twenty minutes or so, but feeling dizzy, he eventually stopped.  

He was becoming more and more accustomed to bouts of dizziness; every time he stood up, and sometimes when he just walked too far, he’d feel a swooping sensation in his head, an aggressive lightheadedness sometimes accompanied by black spots dancing in his vision. It was unpleasant, but not unbearable, and he had become pretty good at brushing it off if other people were around, acting unaffected even while temporarily incapacitated. 

It was the worst during his runs, to the point where he found it almost exhilarating, fully aware that it was reckless to be exercising on so little fuel. He always ate after running though; today he had a Clif bar and a few bites of an apple he had stolen from the dining hall the other day. 

He tore all his food into small pieces now, finding it easier to eat. It was ritualistic and conspicuous and he couldn’t exactly sit in class ripping half a flour tortilla into dozens of pieces, so he’d taken to mostly eating in his dorm. 

He was still shirtless from his shower, wearing nothing but a towel in his hair and a pair of sweatpants. As he sat slowly chewing the apple he glanced down at his stomach, noticing it folding over the band of his sweatpants a bit. He frowned, poking at it. Had he always looked like this? 

Walking over to the full-length mirror by his door, he felt his heart sink, dropping so low his whole body felt heavy with the weight of it. He stared for a long moment, watching his breathing quicken and his face slowly morph into an expression of disgust. He took in his appearance with a quiet panic, as though he had never truly realized what this body he was trapped in actually looked like. Why did he have to look like  _this_? He was disproportional and gangly and he could see a line on his stomach where the skin had been creased when was sitting. His frown deepened as he traced the line with his finger before digging his nail into himself in frustration and disgust, scratching desperately. 

His eyes traveled up to his face and he started before turning away, angry. He  _looked_ like that? How had he not noticed, how had he not cared until now? 

His stomach dropped a bit at the thought of having to leave his dorm and be seen by people, by Evan and Hattie and Alana and anyone else he might run into. Even strangers would be looking at him, and he felt awful and guilty for being himself. Realizing there wasn’t much he could do, he tore his eyes away from the mirror and got dressed, foregoing the usual black tshirt and hoodie combo for a chunky black sweater. His phone lit up. 

From zoe:  _miss u dumbass_

He ignored it, turning on LCD Soundsystem and automatically going to pull his hoodie up over his head as he headed out the door, faltering a bit when he realized he wasn’t wearing a hoodie today.

He smiled, remembering how much Evan had loved when he wore this sweater last winter.

Shit.

SHIT.  

Evan.  

Evan. He’d left him alone this morning and now it was 10:34 and Evan was probably feeling so guilty after waking up _alone_ and not hearing from Connor, and Connor knew Evan well enough to know that he would feel too bad to reach out first. He’d be waiting to hear from Connor. 

Connor hadn’t even been _thinking_ about Evan; he’d just left and hadn’t even checked on him and damnit. He thought hard for a second. Today was Tuesday which meant that Evan had his Ecological Anthropology lecture at 11. He went to Starbucks and ordered Evan a salted caramel mocha, seeing that their fall drinks had finally returned. Connor had been surprised to learn that Evan loved coffee—black coffee or espresso or pumpkin spice lattes or peppermint mochas. He mainly drank it black unless the seasonal drinks were on the menu. 

He ordered himself a chai, as coffee only made his hands shake worse, and remembered at the last minute to ask for them both with almond milk; Heidi had been telling Evan how cow’s milk was actually really bad for you and Evan had promised they’d stop drinking it. Not that Connor really gave a shit, but he cared because Evan cared. 

Walking as quickly as he could with the two drinks, he headed toward the main entrance of CAS. He knew where all of Evan’s classes were because a few days before classes start since Evan had been so worried about getting lost and being late and people staring and making a bad first impression that Connor had looked up all the building numbers and lecture halls and walked with Evan all around the campus.

He took the stairs to the second floor, seeing stars a bit and feeling grateful his class wasn’t on the third or fourth floor. He wound his way to the lecture hall and saw Evan almost alone in the room, one of very few who arrived to class eleven minutes early. 

He pushed through the door, happy to see the professor hadn’t arrived yet. Evan glanced over, looking shocked when his eyes fell on Connor. 

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have class soon?” 

“I can be late. I wanted to see you. Oh also, here.” He handed Evan the coffee and set his own down. Evan smiled happily. 

“I like this,” he said, toying with Connor’s sweater where it had fallen down over his hand.  

“Yeah, I know,” said Connor, amused. He leaned down and kissed him, reaching around Evan’s waist to pull his body flush against his own. Evan went up on his tiptoes for a second, kissing him back, and then they both pulled away, Evan blushing even though there were only a handful of people scattered about, none of whom were paying attention. They looked into each other’s eyes casually, wordlessly for a long moment.

“You need to get to class.”

“Okay,” said Connor, still holding Evan around the waist with one arm.

“You okay?” he said a little quieter.

Evan nodded, “Yeah. Sorry about last night I just—“

Connor shook his head firmly, “No, Ev, don’t be ridiculous, don’t be sorry. I’m glad you texted me, I promise. Anyway  _I’m_  sorry, I should have checked on you sooner this morning sooner. I didn’t mean for you to wake up alone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Evan nodded a little and Connor brought his other hand up to the back of Evan’s head, cradling it in his hand as they hugged. 

“You really do need to get to class.” Evan mumbled into Connor’s sweater, reaching up to kiss Connor’s shoulder where it peeked out of the collar. 

 

Connor got to class only six minutes late. The great thing about college was that no matter how late you showed up to class, someone always showed up later. He had seen people walk in with fifteen minutes  _left_  of a two-hour lecture. Honestly, he admired the people who had the balls to do that. 

He took notes and made sure to write down the assignments, thinking how being a good student was actually kind of satisfying. He did leave one headphone in the whole class though; his professors seemed annoyed if they happened to notice but it helped him stay grounded and calm. When his class let out, he heard his music cut out and pulled out his phone. 

  _Incoming call from: zoe smurph_

Without thinking much, he answered. 

“Hey,”

“Hi, you’re a little bitch for never calling me but I’m over it. Anyway I wanna come visit you.

And also I thought I should warn you. .  . Mom and Dad are like, coming? For parents’ weekend? I guess Mom got an email about it and she felt bad cause they didn’t come last year, and you know how she goes through these phases every so often where she likes to psych herself into thinking she’s actually a good mom.

So, they’re coming. And I wanted to tell you before they told you so you weren’t caught off guard or whatever. And I can come if you want? I wanna visit anyway and it might make having them there easier if I’m there too.”

 

“Oh.”

He could tell Zoe was wondering if he was going to say anything more. He didn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Con, I know you don’t wanna see them. Do you want me to come or no?”

“Do whatever you want,” he snapped. He knew he was being short with her, but his head was spinning a bit. His parents were coming. 

“Don’t take this out on me! I’m the one stuck living at home with them you can put up with them for  _one_ weekend.”

“Oh, yeah, cause they totally treat you _exactly_ how they treat me,” Connor said scathingly, feeling himself start to shake a little. 

“Whatever, Connor. You said do whatever I want, so, I’m coming. Like it or not.” 

She hung up. 

Connor knew she was annoyed at him, but she’d be fine. She had more experience putting up with him than anybody, and she would always bite back. It made things more comfortable, in a weird way, to know that somebody could hold their own against his biting remarks and chronic inability to be pleasant.   

His heart was racing, the sun suddenly seemed to be shining far brighter, and all the colors, so many colors that he was suddenly hyper-aware of surrounded him, aggressive flashes of light and color all inside his head. Someone brushed past him on the sidewalk and the touch made him jump. 

“WATCH IT!” he shouted, shoving them off of him. Their eyes widened and they muttered something, glancing back at him as they scurried away. He couldn’t hear what they said; he couldn’t hear much of anything. His mouth was dry. 

Fuck. Fuck, this wasn’t good, this hadn’t been happening as much. He felt like he was back in high school, feeling eyes on him. The whispers he had heard that he was a freak, that he had a crazed look in his eyes, that he was dangerous seeped into his mind, playing on repeat. He ran his hands through his hair, yanking desperately. 

Before he knew it he was practically running back to his building, frenzied and distracted, his bag bouncing against his leg. He changed, throwing his clothes off and pulling on shorts and a t-shirt before heading down to the river. 

He couldn’t think he couldn’t focus; he just ran. He ran harder, faster, farther, until the black spots appeared, and even then kept going, until the black spots no longer danced in and out of his vision but stayed, until they grew, until he was squeezing his eyes shut because he was deliriously lightheaded. 

He had always pictured running as a burning in your legs and maybe your lungs, but when he ran he hurt _everywhere_. It felt like there was a knife lodged at the top of his throat, his jaw hurt, his shoulders ached all the way down his arms. He tipped his head back, eyes still closed, and came to a stop, wheezing loudly. He exhaled, folding over with his hands to his knees and letting himself finally breathe. 

He couldn’t even remember what he had been so angry about. He glanced up and saw a small dock a few hundred feet away. It was maybe 40 feet long and low to the water—clearly just meant for people to hang out on, as there was no place to rig a boat or anything. He walked down the small bridge leading to the dock and let himself collapse, laying on his back and feeling his chest rise and fall. 

It’d been too long when he finally decided to head back, chilly and sweaty and tired, but upon sitting up and almost blacking out, he realized that running back was likely not plausible. He thought for a second, trying to ignore his screaming body and mind. He called an uber, stumbled out to the pick-up point, and tried not to pass out on the way back. Through a slight ringing in his ears that he might have been imagining, he heard the driver trying to make small talk, but he couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge them.

Once he got back to his dorm he collapsed on his bed, kicking off his shoes. Without bothering to change or shower, he fell asleep. 

***

He woke up a few hours later, with a pounding headache so intense he could almost hear it. 

_Wham, wham, wham._

He blinked and pressed his hands into his head, hard, then realized that there actually was a banging at his door. He grunted out a “whoesit,” and was unsurprised to hear Evan answer back. It’s not like anyone else would come to his door. 

“Door’s unlocked.” 

Evan slowly opened the door and walked in, taking in the sight before him. Connor rolled over to face him, knowing he looked and probably smelled like shit. 

“Uh, wow. Are you okay?” 

Connor resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I’m fine; I just went on a run and then took a nap. Why are you here?” 

Evan opened his mouth a bit and then closed it, and Connor backtracked. 

“I just meant like. Why  _did_  you come here? Not like. Leave. It’s fine that you came, I was just wondering, like, if you needed something or whatever.” Now Connor wanted to roll his eyes at himself. He was always short with people but goddamn, he knew better than to ask Evan a question like that. 

“Oh. I didn’t mean to bug you, it’s just you weren’t answering your phone? And we didn’t get lunch today like we normally do and I don’t know I got worried and I wanted to see you.”

“Okay, well you don’t need to be worried about me.” He knew he was being a dick, but at the same time he sometimes got annoyed with having to communicate so much. He really, really cared about Evan, but he missed being able to disappear for days on end and not have anyone worry. Now he missed one lunch and didn’t check his phone for a couple hours and someone worried so much they came to find him. 

Evan sighed. “Yeah,  _that_  sure makes me feel better,” he muttered sarcastically, almost to himself.

“I can leave?” He sounded exasperated and Connor knew he didn’t  _want_  to leave, he just felt obligated to offer. 

Connor turned his head into the pillow and mumbled, “no. just. Lemme shower I didn’t shower when I got back from my run.” 

Evan raised his eyebrows and nodded as if to say, “clearly,” but Connor knew he had smoothed things over for the moment. 

He did his best to clear his head during the shower, but it was hard when the feeling of lightheadedness was all-consuming and only escalating.

Still, the water and the quiet were comforting and he felt a bit better, until he got out and realized he hadn’t brought a change of clothes. 

He felt panic bubble up in his throat. He had his dirty clothes and two towels, one he wrapped his hair in and one he wrapped around his waist. Evan was in his room waiting for him. He’d changed in front of Evan before, but now the thought of doing so now made his throat nearly close up. _Fuck_. He couldn’t exactly put on his nasty old clothes again, especially since he’d told Evan he’d been running in them. Trying to swallow down the panic, he headed back down the hall to his room. 

He pushed open the unlocked door just a smidge and then cleared his throat. 

“Hey Ev, could you like. not look?”

“Connor you know I’ve seen you naked before,” Evan replied nonchalantly. 

“I know, fuck, just. Please.” There was a note of desperation in his voice. “Not today,” he added in a near whisper. 

“Yeah, okay, of course. I won’t look.” 

With a rush of gratitude, Connor remembered why he loved Evan so much. Very few people so willingly accommodated his irrational, inconsistent desires but Evan always went above and beyond, without even asking questions. He understood what it was like. His anxiety led to just as unpredictable needs that varied according to how he was doing, and the two of them did their best to communicate and accommodate the other. Even if they didn’t always understand completely, they trusted each other. 

He walked through the door and saw Evan sitting criss-cross on his bed, facing the wall with his hands covering his face. It was so cute he might have melted any other time, but he was too on edge from feeling so exposed. He dressed in record time, pulling on a faded black Bowie t-shirt and sweatpants. He figured they wouldn’t likely be going anywhere so it wasn’t exactly worth trying to wriggle into his skinny jeans. 

“Okay, you’re good,” he said quietly. 

Evan turned around to see Connor standing, looking a little lost. Drops of water slid down his curls into the neck of his tshirt. 

“Want me to comb your hair out?” 

Connor bit his lip and then nodded. He didn’t comb his hair all that often and he had noticed that it was starting to get a little matted underneath. Plus, he loved when Evan played with his hair. He dug through his desk drawer for his comb, then went to stand near the bed, looking at Evan for direction. 

“I think the bed is too tall for me to reach you if you sit on the floor,” he mused. “We can both sit up here, I’ll just reach.” They situated themselves up on the bed, Evan sitting on his knees to get a little taller. 

He started at the bottom, gently working the comb through the knots, holding the hair tightly with one hand so Connor couldn’t feel it when he pulled too hard. After a bit Connor let his eyes fall shut, exhausted but calmed by the whole situation. Evan was so careful, stopping to pull out knots by hand and apologizing if he accidentally pulled too hard. Whenever Connor combed his own hair he just yanked it through as hard as he could. 

After a while, Connor noticed Evan had finished combing his hair a while ago and was now simply playing with it, curling it around his fingers and running his hands through it. It felt incredible, and Connor sighed a bit when Evan’s hands found their way to his scalp, scratching gently with his nails. He moved Connor hair to the side and pressed warm kisses to the side of his neck before resting his chin on Connor’s shoulder, one hand still absentmindedly toying with Connor’s hair. Connor felt him take a deep breath and let it out. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Connor’s heart started racing. Evan  _knew_  he wasn’t eating. How did he know? How did he find out? He sat up abruptly, jerking Evan’s head off his shoulder in the process.

“What do you mean?” he snapped defensively. 

Evan reached back up and started playing with Connor’s hair again, hoping to ease the tension that had filled his shoulders. 

“I mean, you’re upset. And I know you don’t always like to talk through things, but you were okay this morning and, and you’re clearly not now.” Evan spoke calmly and slowly, and Connor let out a breath. Evan didn’t know he hadn’t been eating. Everything was fine. “And I just, um, I feel like I know you pretty well and I feel like something happened between this morning and now?”

Connor pulled his legs in, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms tightly around his legs. He was glad Evan was sitting behind him; the thought of looking into those bright blue eyes was a little overwhelming. 

“Zoe called.” 

Evan didn’t reply, just scratched his back and waited patiently for Connor to continue. 

“My parents are coming,” he said gruffly.

There was more to say, but Connor couldn’t say it and Evan didn’t need him to. Evan knew Connor’s parents aggravated his mental health more than anything. He knew that Connor had been so relieved to move back in, knowing that he wouldn’t have to see his parents till Thanksgiving. He knew that having this sprung on him with only a week's notice would take a serious toll on him, as he wouldn’t have time to emotionally prepare at all. He knew that Connor’s mother could be emotionally manipulative, and his father was emotionally abusive, even if Connor could never bring himself to use those terms. 

Evan thought carefully before responding, nodding as he processed the information. Connor wouldn’t want to hear “it’s okay,” because it wasn’t okay. He wouldn’t want to hear “don’t worry,” because he had good reason to worry. He crawled around him so they were facing each other on the little twin bed and gently took Connor’s face in his hands. Connor’s jaw was jutted out and his look was guarded. 

“You’re not going to be alone in this. You’re not going to be stuck at home with them; they can’t lock you in your room or, um, take away your car, you don’t even have to see them at all without me around. If they want to take you to dinner, I-I’ll come. If they want to walk around campus, I’ll talk to them about uh, historical b-brickwork or something until they’re dying to get away." Evan spoke earnestly, quietly, leaning in so their faces were almost touching, Connor's hair falling like a curtain around them.

"It’ll be over before you know it and what they think of you doesn’t matter and what they say isn’t true and who they want you to be isn’t who you should be and Connor, I don’t even know if anything I’m saying is helpful, but it’s _true_ and y-you deserve to hear true things even if you can’t believe them, and I just don’t want your parents coming to make you think that you’re less than you are. You're so much, so much more than they think so good and so smart. You’re so beautiful, Connor, you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me and you deserve—“

Connor scrambled away, out of Evan’s grip, stumbling backwards off the bed and barely catching himself before the familiar swooping sensation hit, blood rushing from his brain. He staggered and sat down on the floor, trying to play it off as if he’d tripped or something. He took a few deep breaths, willing the lights to stop flashing behind his eyes before looking up. 

Evan was peeking over the bed, his eyes wide and wet and full of concern, and it was all too much. Connor had tried to shut it out, but he couldn’t. He was so angry, angry at himself for not deserving Evan, for letting it get to the point where he let Evan treat him with such tenderness, angry that Evan said things that weren’t true. Evan didn’t know, he didn’t see. He didn’t see how awful Connor was; how disgusting and terrible and bad he was. And here he was, trying to care for Connor, telling him he was beautiful and that he would do these things that Connor knew were incredibly difficult for Evan to do. It was so loud, the rushing in his ears, and he didn’t know how to make it stop. 

He had never felt pain like this. He loved Evan, even if he couldn’t admit it out loud. But in this moment he realized that he could no longer brush off the way Evan treated him. Evan cared about him. Evan wasn’t just hanging out with him out of loneliness or boredom or, god forbid, pity. He didn’t know how to do this. He wasn’t loveable. He knew, deep down, how undeserving he was, and what would happen when Evan finally realized that? What would happen to him when Evan slowly learned to hate him? He realized in that moment that watching Evan go from looking at him like he was beautiful to slowly resenting him, and eventually becoming altogether disgusted with him, would destroy him. He would be shattered beyond repair. His hands shook in his lap and his mind nearly blanked.

“Get out,” he said in a low voice.

“Connor, what are you talking about? What did I say, did I say something wrong? What’s going on, Connor, are you okay?” Evan climbed off the bed and crouched in front of him, reaching out, but Connor smacked his hand away with a little too much force. 

“I said get OUT!” he was shaking. Evan didn’t move. Connor looked up, a darker look on his face than Evan had ever seen. “FUCKING LEAVE, EVAN!” he shouted, throwing the words harshly into the distraught face in front of him.

“I-I’m...I’m not leaving you alone like this,” Evan’s voice was trembling and Connor mumbled something, taking his head in his hands and rocking back and forth a bit. “What are you saying?”

Connor repeated himself over and over, raising his voice more each time. “You promised me you promised me you promised me you promised me, you PROMISED! REMEMBER? YOU PROMISED!!” Connor’s voice shook. “So get the FUCK OUT!” 

Evan’s lip trembled and his eyes widened as he realized what Connor was saying. When he made that promise he never thought Connor would actually bring it up. Connor lowered his head, unable to bear the look on Evan’s face, and waited until he heard the door close. He counted to ten and then let out a yell, overwhelmed by the pain and the static and the noise and the rushing in his ears and he pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his chair, slamming it into the wall before collapsing onto the floor, shaking. There was a time where he could have torn the whole room apart if he felt like this, but he was held back by an overwhelming exhaustion. 

His head hurt so badly, he wanted to never hear or see anything again. Every stimulation aggravated him, the feel of the carpet on his cheek; the light coming down from his lamp, the distant noises outside his window. He picked himself up, stripped off his pants and jacket and socks with shaking hands, and turned off his light, burying himself under his heaviest blanket. At first the pain was too searing for him to sleep, but eventually he drifted off, the disbelief in Evan’s eyes right before he had left embedded in his brain.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeee what was the mysterious promise?? i'll try to post the next chapter soon so y'all aren't left hanging for too long. pretty sure the next chapter's my favorite one so far. these next three weeks are absolute insanity with school but i already have it written so as soon as i get a chance i'll have it up.   
> and i wanted to say thank you so so sSO much for everyone who has been sending comments and asks it makes my heart do the thing from the grinch who stole christmas where it grows like 4 sizes i can't even tell u how much it means so just picture that.   
> as always, you can find me on tumblr (@veganconnor)


	6. just the outlines of our hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> backstory!!!! ft evan's pov for a change and heidi being a superb mom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ,, like this one n i hope you all do too !!
> 
> tw: prescription drug abuse! don't self medicate kiddos it doesn't end well
> 
> chapter title is from tomorrow by daughter

Evan sat in the hallway outside Connor’s room, finally letting the tears that had been welling up in his eyes slip out.

He remembered the first time Connor had brought up the promise, he had thought Connor was kidding. Then, when Connor had persisted, he had agreed only to placate him, convinced the whole thing was just Connor’s paranoia speaking. It had been towards the beginning of their relationship.

They had gone to different high schools, as Connor had gotten expelled from Evan and Zoe’s school his sophomore year.

Zoe was stranded without a ride after jazz band one day when Connor didn’t come to get her and she approached Evan to ask for a ride. Evan had stuttered his way through the conversation, finally agreeing and driving very carefully as Zoe gave him instructions. Zoe spoke to him casually, seemingly unfazed by his stammering and shaking and overall awkwardness. Evan was incredulous that anyone could possibly be comfortable around him when he was always so very, very obviously uncomfortable around everyone, and when he pulled up at her house he blurted out, “How are you doing this?!”

Zoe had looked at him, raising her eyebrows and smiling a bit. “Doing what?”

“Just, just like. Talking to me like, um acting like, acting like I’m normal, I guess? and not stuttering and repeating myself and rambling?”

She answered by shrugging it off, climbing out and asking if he could give her a ride on Wednesday.   
“You see, cause Connor’s very unreliable and I never know if he's going to show up, although to be fair it is totally out of his way, but you’re already there. So if it’s not an inconvenience, that would be great.”

He had started driving her home twice a week, slowly becoming more comfortable around her. A couple weeks later, she broached the subject again. 

“Remember when you asked me why I was comfortable around you or whatever?” Evan nodded and she glanced out the window. “I... my brother. He’s bipolar, I think; my parents refuse to believe it I’ve researched it and he’s been showing all the symptoms since he was a kid, but he has, like, episodes sometimes, and it really freaks people out? And I think what makes it worse than anything is the way people treat him, the way they look at him. And I decided when I was younger that I never want to make anyone feel that way so I just, I just don’t see people like that? Like when people are acting weird or off, I guess I just know from my brother that there’s more to them, and they don’t want to be making anyone uncomfortable and whatever they’re doing they can’t help it. I don’t know.”

Evan looked at Zoe fiddling with her shoelaces and nodded.

“Connor’s, um, he’s really lucky to have a sister like you.”

Zoe laughed, but it was hollow and almost bitter.

“Yeah, well, he hates me. So.”

“Oh. I mean, I’m sure he doesn’t like actually—“

“Evan, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sounded impatient and they sat in silence for the remainder of the drive. Evan was convinced she was mad at him but she called out “I’ll see you Wednesday!” and smiled at him as she got out of the car, grabbing her guitar from the back seat and heading inside.

Then one day, a month or two after they'd met, he got a call from Zoe. 

“Hi, so you know how you said your mom isn’t home a lot? Is there any chance she’s not home right now also can we come over?” She sounded panicked and frantic and the desperation in her voice made Evan feel comfortable agreeing to help her on the spot.

“Uh, yeah, she’s working the overnight. She won’t be back tonight. Who is we? Is-is everything okay?”

“Text me your address.”

She hung up.

A bit later he saw headlights shining in through his window and he stepped out of the front door.

“Please come here,” Zoe called, already out the door and walking around to the passenger side. He rushed over, shocked to see Connor limp in the passenger seat. His eyes were open but his expression was scarily blank.   
“Wh-what’s wrong with him? Is he okay?”

“Just help me get him inside; I’ll explain everything in a minute.” Evan pulled one of Connor’s arms around his shoulders and hoisted him out of the seat, Zoe coming around to his other side. Connor was taller than both of them, and about as cooperative as a wet noodle but Zoe locked her other arm around Connor’s waist and lifted, taking a surprising amount of his weight. They managed to get him inside and onto Evan’s bed. Zoe walked outside and motioned for Evan to follow.

“Can we go to the kitchen or something? I don’t want him to hear us. He may be unresponsive, but he’s not deaf.”

Zoe plopped down at the kitchen table and explained the whole situation to Evan, surprisingly calm as she talked. Apparently, Connor had acquired benzodiazepines (Evan raised his eyebrows, questioning. "Klonopin, Ev." He shook his head, still uncomprehending. " 's like Xanax on Xanax.") and he’d been taking them to calm himself down. He’d only been taking them for a couple of months, but Larry found his stash and took them all. That had been two days ago. Now the withdrawal symptoms were hitting, and Connor seemed to be deteriorating. She said she had researched it and he seemed to be at the worst part of it all and that he mainly needed some time to wait it out. But, then Larry wouldn’t leave him alone and everyone kept yelling and Connor wasn’t moving and she just needed to get him somewhere safe, somewhere he could come down from it all without panicking even more from the triggering circumstances and at this point her voice finally cracked and I just didn’t know who to call and I can’t take him to the hospital and he’s fine physically he’s showing all the signs that he needs to be showing but he’s doing so poorly mentally that idk I just wanted to get him somewhere safe and I couldn’t think of anywhere else.

She dropped her head into her hands, scrubbing them over her face and taking a deep breath. Evan reached out, his hand trembling a bit, and patted her arm. She glanced up at him and he cleared his throat.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, he’s okay, and you’re okay, and it’s okay that you came here.”

Zoe’s eyes searched his face, and she gave him the tiniest nod.

"What do we do?" he asked.   
"I guess just, try to take care of him? I don't know." 

They walked back to Evan's room. Connor was sprawled out exactly as they had left him. Evan carefully untied and pried off his boots and then they took turns reading aloud to him, hoping it might keep him grounded a bit. He eventually curled into himself, rolling onto his side and pulling his knees towards his chest. He had a slightly pained look on his face and he stared, unseeing, ahead. It was unnerving.   
At one point he dry-heaved into a trashcan but nothing came up. He’d fallen asleep, only to be awoken minutes later with nightmares, horrific visions dancing behind his eyelids. He refused to speak. Evan and Zoe had taken shifts during that first, dreadful night, never leaving him without someone keeping watch.

Over the next few weeks, Connor spent most of his time at Evan’s. 

The first day, Evan told Heidi that Connor was dealing with some mental health issues and his family had kicked him out. She asked a few questions, but agreed to let him stay. A day or two later, Evan carefully revealed to her that Connor had been abusing prescription drugs, begging her to remain calm and hear him out. He explained that it wasn’t an issue of rebellion but rather of being denied the help he needed from his parents. She’d been fairly understanding, but explained to Evan that Connor could be in serious danger that they couldn’t see.

Evan asked Connor to let his mom take a look at him, explaining that she wasn’t going to do anything except make sure he was okay and his body wasn’t going into shock or anything. When he didn’t reply, Evan impulsively grabbed his hand and told him to squeeze it if that sounded okay. He waited a moment, holding Connor’s hand like a limp fish, and was about to let go when Connor’s fingers tightened briefly around his. He kept Connor’s hand in his own and led him into the kitchen.   
At Evan’s encouragement, Connor edged his way up to sit on the counter top, his long legs dangling almost to the ground. He stared unseeing ahead as Heidi explained that she was just going to check his vitals, and he wouldn’t need to undress and it would all only take a minute. Evan offered to leave but Connor’s eyes flicked briefly over to him and his fingers ghosted gently around Evan’s again. The touch was barely perceptible, but Evan took it as his cue to stay.

Heidi gently explained that she needed to take his blood pressure and he would need to take off his hoodie. No expression crossed his face, and they all paused for a moment, the tension palpable, before his hand slowly inched up towards the zipper. His other hand remained limp in Evan’s, both of their palms clammy. He fumbled a bit at the bottom, and then used his free hand to push it off his shoulders. A faint blush crept up the fair skin on the back of his neck as he pulled his arm out of the sleeve. The hoodie pooled on the counter behind him, and he left the arm holding Evan’s hand still tucked within the other sleeve.   
He looked younger than usual, left in a grey tank that rose and fell gently as he breathed. Heidi and Evan shared a glance as they took in the scars littered across the inside of Connor’s arm where it lay across his lap, fingers brushing the opposite pocket of his sweatpants. Neither was surprised but the white lines were glaring, even against his pale skin. He continued staring blankly ahead, and Heidi spoke calmly as she carefully moved, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his wiry arm. When she finished, he lifted his arm slightly to allow her to unfasten it. 

Evan watched his mom as she continued, feeling a surge of love and gratefulness at her endless displays of gentleness and understanding. She explained everything directly and kindly, despite the lack of reception from her charge. She listened to his heartbeat and Evan saw shivers dance across Connor’s shoulders at the touch of the cool metal stethoscope underneath his shirt. 

He studied Connor’s profile, trying to distract himself from the sweat gathering between their hands, not wanting to risk pulling away. Connor’s eyes slanted downward, and his mouth naturally turned up at the corners in a way that somehow looked like a faint hint of a frown rather than a smile. He heard his mom ask Connor to take a deep breath in, to no avail. He glanced at his mom and waited a moment before tentatively squeezing Connor’s hand to get his attention. He blinked. Heidi repeated herself and he complied, shoulders gently rising up before he finally let his eyes fall to Heidi’s face until she instructed him to exhale. She asked him to stand and he slid off the counter, dropping the couple of inches to the ground. The hoodie slid off behind him, still hanging off of his arm, and Evan scrambled to catch it, balling it up loosely against his stomach as he glanced at their still clasped hands. He gulped as he was faced with the pale column of Connor’s throat; he’d moved to face Evan so Heidi could listen to him breathe from the back. Over Connor’s shoulder he watched his mother carefully moving the stethoscope around Connor’s back, asking him once more to take a deep breath and let it out. Once she finished, she cautiously reached around for the hoodie and Evan handed her the bulk of the fabric. She straightened it out and helped Connor back into it the way a parent would a small child.

She faced them both, pulling the strings of Connor’s hoodie to even them out as she told them that he was going to be okay; his blood pressure was still too high but that was to be expected, and she’d check it again in a week or so to make sure he was making progress. In the meantime there wasn’t much she could do without admitting him to the hospital but Evan felt relieved knowing Connor wasn’t in immediate danger. She zipped Connor’s hoodie half-way up, before placing a hand on each of their shoulders and telling them everything was going to be okay. Evan nodded and flinched a bit but he appreciated the sentiment.  
He led them back to his room, not dropping Connor’s hand until they were in private. Evan moved to his desk and Connor plopped on the bed, toying gently with the cords of his hoodie as though he’d never seen them so even before. Evan wondered when Connor’s mother had last fretted over him like that, how long it had been since he’d felt cared for by an adult.

They fell into what could more or less be called a routine. He was functional to an extent, letting Evan take him to school and going to some of his classes, but he was clearly going through the ringer. He was hyper-sensitive to touch, to sound, to light, to everything. He couldn’t sleep, and Evan often saw a terrified look cross Connor’s face even if he was simply staring at an ordinary object. 

He didn’t speak for days.

Evan didn’t know why he’d taken in Connor like this. When Zoe had brought him over, he’d expected him to stay for just a night or two, but they’d talked about it and both agreed that he was more likely to keep improving at Evan’s house. Zoe came by almost every day.  
Connor mainly just sat on Evan’s window sill and stared, or laid on Evan’s bed. Evan felt strangely comfortable around Connor, never feeling any pressure to make conversation or keep up any pretense, knowing Connor didn’t care.

Fast forward a few months and Connor was back living at home. He and Evan had a strange sort of friendship, a bond neither could deny, try as they might.  
Connor begrudgingly began to care for Evan, and Evan grew more and more comfortable around Connor. It was possibly one of the strangest starts to any relationship but it brought them together in a way very few other things could’ve. Once, when Connor was rereading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and came across the passage:

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them”

He texted a picture of the line to Evan with the caption "us lol" and Evan screenshotted the text to remind himself that Connor actually did like him and he wasn't just a nuisance or a bother.

Evan remembered when Connor first started to open up a bit, talking about himself in staccato, grumbled sentences before changing the subject, but opening up nonetheless. It scared Evan to see just how deeply his self-hatred flowed, but he also felt honored in a way, that Connor trusted him. Connor was witty too, cracking jokes that were more clever than sarcastic with a deadpan expression. He often disappeared, leaving Evan’s house in the middle of the night and showing up to school in the middle of third period with no explanation, or even dropping off the map for two or three days. Evan and Zoe always agonized a bit during those longer periods but knew there wasn’t much they could do to stop him, and hovering would only make him push them away. 

One night, Connor showed up on Evan’s doorstep, looking haggard and frantic. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual and his eyes darted around. He wrung his shaking hands, and Evan was distressed to see significant bruising littered across the knuckles. He tried to escort Connor inside but Connor shook his head, hair falling into his face.

“I just, Evan, I need to talk to you, I need to talk to you, I need you to promise me I need you to promise me” He was breathing loudly and talking even louder and Evan blinked, confused.

It was the first time he’d brought up the promise.

Evan had protested, trying to get Connor to come in and sit down and calm down and explain himself but Connor wouldn’t step foot through the door; he just stood there shaking his head and pinching at his hands and avoiding eye contact.  
“Promise me, Evan, promise me,” he’d begged, muttering heatedly almost under his breath.

Evan shook his head, confused. “Promise you what? What’s going on? Just, tell me what you need.”

He had longed to reach out and rub up and down Connor’s arms, but they just weren’t close enough at the time. Connor had sucked in a breath and turned his face up to the sky, before looking back down towards his feet.

“Just, okay, just, Evan, if I ever, you need to, I need to know, I don’t want to...” he paused, taking a deep breath.

“You’ll get hurt, Evan,” he nearly yelled. “I don’t, I won’t, I won’t keep talking to you unless you promise me, this, it can’t, I’ll hurt you.” He trailed off into a whisper and squeezed his eyes shut as Evan shook his head.

“What are you talking about, Connor, you’re not going to hurt me you wouldn’t hurt—“

“STOP IT, Evan! Stop. You don’t know, you don’t know me, you don’t know what-what I’m capable of, what I’ve done, you don’t know, I’m not fucking messing around. If you don’t promise me right now that, that anytime, no matter what, that anytime I ever tell you to get away from me you, you have to do it, Evan. You have to promise you’ll get away from me, no matter what, cause I won’t let this happen. I won’t let you get any closer if there’s,” He finally took a breath, “if there’s any chance I’ll hurt you.”

Evan didn’t know what to say; he just stood there, gaping.

“Promise me.”

Evan had never seen such desperation, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I promise.”

 

  
He never thought Connor would actually bring it up, use it on him, use it against him, he thought bitterly as he leaned his head back against the wall of the Connor’s hallway. After all they’d been through, after their months of tentative friendship, after the first kiss and the first hug, the first real hug, the first date, the nights spent tangled up, the hours driving around listening to music, the fights and the distance and the making up and they’d only been friends for a little over a year and dating for six months or so, but it was a lifetime of moments shared together, and it felt like a betrayal to have that damn promise thrown back into his face. He loved Connor, he loved him even when it was difficult, but to have Connor throw him out like this was a lot.

He didn’t know what was going on but he was trying so hard to be loving and supportive and helpful and he just felt like all he did was fuck things up even more. He heard a loud crash in Connor’s room, a muffled yell, and then quiet. While he wanted to go back to his dorm, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. No matter how much Connor pushed him away, he still cared too much.

He’d always care too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank youuuu for reading! hope you enjoy i love you all and your comments mean everything! it's wild cause after i post a chapter i'll see dozens of hits accumulating with no kudos or comments or anything but then one person will leave a comment and suddenly i'm just so !!!! excited to write and post more so do not underestimate ur power to make me write sooner/faster lol


	7. found a real rival in myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor's having a rough time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long since the last update; i've had a lot going on.  
> this one's a little sad i swear it gets happier (i don't know this yet but i have control seeing as im the writer and i need them to be happy so it'll hAPPEN somehow i'll make it happen) 
> 
> tw for graphic descriptions of disordered eating/self-induced vomiting  
> things r bad right now sorry sorry 
> 
> please read the end notes if you don't mind i'd appreciate it! 
> 
> chapter title is from pot kettle black by wilco

Connor awoke to searing pains in his stomach. The hunger twisted like a knife, relentless, sharp pains demanding attention. He curled into the fetal position, dreading the inevitable moment where he’d have to force himself to get up and eat something. 

He felt sick, and not just from the nauseating hunger. The events of the previous night came rushing back to him. He’d ruined everything with Evan, but only in order to save them both. He couldn’t deal with Evan leaving eventually, so he’d saved them both the trouble. Now Evan didn’t have to deal with Connor and Connor didn’t have to shatter into millions of pieces when he was ultimately abandoned. It was for the best. 

Right?

Right?

He couldn’t even answer his own question, his head now joining his stomach in screaming at him. He squeezed his eyes shut, the light from his window still aggressive behind the thin shield of his eyelids. He flung his arm over his face in an attempt to block out the brightness. The strange lightheadedness was now constant, even when he was lying down, and he knew he needed to eat something to avoid passing out. Still squeezing his eyes shut, he swung his legs off the bed and slowly stood up, trying to give himself time to adjust. 

He looked at his drawer, surveying the stale tortillas, the clif bars which always stuck in his throat, and the sunflower seeds. He grabbed the sunflower seeds, but put them back, realizing he’d have to eat a massive amount to feel any better. 

He weighed his options. He ruled out eating anything in the drawer; just the thought of it made him miserable. He needed to eat something quickly. He could order food? No, the minimum purchase would ensure that he would have to buy way more than he could eat, and that thought stressed him out. He could go down to the convenience store and find something, but someone might see him buying food and he’d have to pick something out and the selection wasn’t very good. The campus dining hall was also an option... but he’d be seen eating by tons of people and the food was always too rich. 

He thought for a minute longer, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying desperately to force his angry brain to focus. The convenience store was close, and he knew he needed to go with what was fastest. 

He wanted to cry he was so miserable. He was more exhausted than he’d ever thought possible, even in high school when he’d gone weeks on 3-4 hours of sleep a night. He was furious at himself: for hurting Evan, for letting Evan get so close in the first place, and because he was about to eat even though he didn’t deserve it. The impending visit from his family hung over him like a dark cloud over an angry cartoon character, casting a shadow over all his thoughts. He stuffed his feet into his shoes and buried himself in his hoodie, stumbling out of his dorm.

The sun burned too bright, hurting his eyes and burning down on him. His hands were cold—they always were—but soon enough he started to grow uncomfortably warm inside his hoodie. He couldn’t bear the thought of taking it off and feeling so exposed, so he kept walking, ducking his head as he crossed the street. He wanted so badly to just lie down in a dark room for hours, wishing for anything to quiet the static in his brain. 

He leaned into the door with his shoulder to push it open, not trusting his arms with how weak he was feeling. Immediately he felt nauseated looking at all the options. Nothing looked good. He circled through the few aisles, trying not to panic at the bored stare of the cashier. He picked viciously at the skin on the inside of his wrist as his eyes darted at the overly bright packaging of the chips and candy. He glanced at the bag of popcorn, which looked slightly edible, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. On his third or fourth round his eyes fell to the bottom of one of the shelves which contained slightly more substantial options. 

Squatting down to grab the Chef Boyardee mini raviolis, he turned it in his hand, taking in the label. He’d never given much thought to calories but all he knew is that he didn’t want to eat too much. The image he’d seen in the mirror yesterday flashed behind his eyes and he suppressed a shudder. Seeing the number, he shoved the little can back on the shelf like it had burned him, then reached for the Spaghettios. The number was smaller and he nodded resolutely to himself. Before standing, he grabbed a small jar of peanut butter. He marched over to the counter and slung his purchases onto it, head bowed so low in shame that his hair dangled around his face, blocking the sides of his vision. He fumbled with his wallet before shoving his card onto the counter. He heard some beeping and then the card reappeared in his line of vision. He glanced up a tiny bit more, seeing that the two items were just sitting there and the cashier had gone back to staring at their phone. 

_Fuck._

He didn’t want to walk out holding the food where everyone could see and wonder what kind of fucking weirdo buys spaghettios and peanut butter, not to mention they would also probably wonder why he was even buying food in the first place when he clearly didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t know how to ask for a bag. 

He cleared his throat a little, eyes barely lifting up. 

“I, uh.” He paused. “Bag?” he squeaked out. 

The cashier pulled a plastic grocery bag from underneath the counter with one hand, not glancing up from their phone. Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, he practically ran out of the store, shoving the food into the bag and wrapping the plastic handles tightly around the palm of his hand. 

Once he’d returned to the safety of his dorm, he pried open the lid, plunked the cold noodles into a plastic bowl from target, and microwaved them. He forgot to cover them though, and little red spots spattered the inside of his microwave when he opened the door a moment later. 

He figured he’d deal with that later and grabbed the bowl, sinking to the floor, slats of light falling around him as the sun shone through the blinds he’d employed to shut out the brightness. He pulled the top half of his hair into a little bun to keep the ends from dangling into the bowl and sighed deeply as he smelled his meal. It smelled incredible, and as stressed as he was, his instincts were kicking in. Despite everything, he was so excited to finally eat. He practically inhaled the first few bites, savoring the flavor and the warmth. Before he knew it he was scraping the bottom of the bowl, eating tiny spoonfuls of the now-lukewarm, artificial tomato sauce. 

Licking his spoon clean, he ignored the voices in his head and opened the jar of peanut butter. He ate two bites of peanut butter, savoring the taste and the texture at first until it started to stick in his throat. He dropped the spoon as if it’d burnt him. 

Suddenly he felt like he might explode from how full he felt. Panicking, he rushed to the bathroom, shoving through the doors, and knelt down in the stall. He saw ankles and feet in the stall next to him but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Glancing behind him to make sure he’d locked the door, he brought his fingers to his mouth and winced before stroking the back of his throat, searching for his gag reflex. He found it soon enough, stomach clenching as his body forced up the food against its will. Disgusted with himself as he tasted the strange combination of food for a second time, he went back in, gagging at the vomit that now coated his fingers as they went down his throat. Never in his life could he have imagined just how badly this would hurt, or how determined he could be to keep going regardless. 

He continued a few more times, choking and spluttering, until finally he slumped over the bowl. He coughed a few times and spit into the bowl. 

God, he was disgusting. 

Evan was lucky to not have to deal with him anymore. 

He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and did his best to wipe off his hand and his mouth. 

He flushed the toilet and went to wash his hands, feeling a deep red creep up his neck as one of the guys from his hall side-eyed him in the mirror. He waited, hands still under the warmth of the rushing water, expecting to hear him mutter an insult, or shove him into the wall but the guy just shook his head a bit and walked out the door, unbothered.  _College is so much better than high school_ , he thought in spite of himself. 

Getting back to his room, he drank a glass of water and crawled onto his bed. He had a Hawthorne reading due in one of his writing classes, so he pulled up the pdf and did his best to forget about the events of the past few days. Like it or not, he was still in classes and he knew he needed to start pulling the bare minimum in order to keep his grades decent. The brightness from the screen seemed to burn and he went to turn it down before discovering it was already at its lowest. Resigned, he started scrolling through the story as he read. The motion made him feel sick. He settled on reading through the whole page, then closing his eyes as he scrolled to avoid the dizziness. 

He did work for a few of his classes, fighting his newly shortened attention span as his headache got louder and louder, then finally gave up, knowing he’d passed any chance at being remotely productive. He pulled off all his clothes except his tshirt and boxers and pulled his blanket over his head, too tired to go anywhere or do anything. He was exhausted and in pain, and he felt the lightheadedness becoming overpowering again. He ate a spoonful of peanut butter and drank an old water bottle then lay in his bed, barely aware of the time passing. He saw his phone on the ground and realized he hadn’t touched it all day but he was too scared. 

What if Evan had been texting and calling all day? 

Or, even worse...what if Evan hadn’t?

He tore his eyes away and flung the blanket back up over his head. He was cold but his breath overheated the space, making him feel suffocated. He settled for rolling on his side with the blanket shielding out most of the light but still allowing him room to breathe. He wondered how he ever took for granted things like not having a headache, or having the drive to do anything other than lay on his bed for hours waiting for time to pass. 

This was so different from his depressive episodes. In the past he’d had times where he wouldn’t get out of bed, but it was because he genuinely wanted to die. This was... this was different. He didn’t even have the energy to think about wanting to die, to think about anything. He felt empty, lifeless. Not just mentally, but physically as well. It scared him how weak he’d gotten but he knew it was for the best. If the alternative was eating, then this was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter is dark i am SOrry i'll make up for it i swear the story's gonna end up having a redemption arc. 
> 
> if you want me to kinda speed up the process just comment that you prefer fluff and i'll make it happen or if you want a more detailed description of all the ups and downs just say you prefer angst! 
> 
> either way i promise there's gonna be both & choosing the first option won't make the fic shorter or anything it would just help me a lot with the direction things are gonna to let me know what y'all are most interested in seeing


	8. twin high maintenance machines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> evan's an angry boy. he's really fuckin valid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let evan swear you cowards.  
> also i'm sorry if he's too ooc, i struggle to write him but this felt right and i can't do anything but trust my instincts so! i hope u all enjoy
> 
> chapter title is from this year by the mountain goats

Connor’s days now seemed to pass by, slow, lonely, and filled with thoughts of nothing but food. He’d make lists in his head: nachos, lasagna, stir fry, enchiladas, cotton candy, lemon-pepper chicken, dumplings... practically drooling at the thought of all the foods he couldn’t eat. Anything sounded good.

Until the moment came where he actually had to eat something.

Then he would panic, and suddenly nothing he’d dreamt of eating seemed realistically edible. Occasionally he would cave, buying himself a bag of Monster Mix at the store and shoveling handfuls into his mouth shamefully in his dorm, or making himself a frozen meal from the convenience store and inhaling gratefully the scent and the taste and the texture, until the food would hit his stomach.

That moment never failed to send him walking resolutely to the bathroom, sad and angry as he forced the food back up. Once, the guy who had heard him the first time happened to be taking a piss when Connor walked out of the stall after making himself throw up and Connor saw what might be disdain, but more resembled concern, flit across his face. From that point on he began throwing up in his trash can in his room. It made the process significantly more disgusting but he didn't want to risk getting caught.

He didn’t check his phone for three days.

He stopped by target and bought himself a scale. He couldn’t quite identify the force driving him to do so—he’d never been particularly curious about his weight—but now it seemed of utmost importance and he found himself compulsively stepping onto it multiple times a day, entering the numbers into a note on his phone.

The chill of fall finally set in, temperatures barely cresting into the 70’s in the late afternoon. He was pretty much perpetually shivering, feeling the cold air seep through the layers he wore into his bones.

One day he left his lecture, head ducked down and headphones in—he’d tuck the cord into his empty pocket to give the illusion that he was listening to music even though his phone was still dead on the floor of his room. He was taking deep breaths, trying to counterbalance the dizziness, as he watched his feet carry him through the door, when he ran headlong into someone. Stumbling backwards in surprise, he glanced up to see a very upset Evan standing with his arms crossed.

He spun around and started off the other way, not knowing what else to do.

“Connor! CONNOR!!” Evan yelled out, following him. Connor sped up, but the hallway was crowded, and Evan reached out, wrapping his hand around Connor’s elbow and yanking back hard. Connor stopped in shock. Evan rarely used force but Connor turned to see anger absolutely radiating from Evan’s face.

“Are you KIDDING me? What the FUCK Connor what the fuck you LEAVE me and then ignore ALL my texts ALL my calls?? I’m fucking begging you to reply, and you don’t, you don't fucking care? I don’t know if you’re even fucking alive Zoe says she hasn’t heard from you, you didn’t reply to her either, what the.” The tears that had been slowly filling his eyes spilled over and he heaved a sob, shoving Connor in the chest, hard.

The damn broke and he couldn’t stop crying, angrily sobbing like a child and struggling to even breathe.

Connor watched, wide-eyed, but otherwise frozen and unresponsive as Evan worked himself up even more, scrubbing his hands over his face through the mess of snot and tears. Students were now pouring out of their classrooms in masses and filling the hallway, rushing and pushing and Evan's shoulders shook as he struggled to get a hold of himself, beginning to panic as he felt the familiar vice forming around his chest, signaling the onset of a panic attack.

He stumbled back, into the sea of students jostling him on all sides. Connor saw Evan’s head spinning, and then saw himself, as though he were watching a character in a movie, step forward towards Evan. He saw Evan shaking his head angrily and saw himself reach out, pulling him firmly from the flow of students and moving them both to the wall. He placed his body like a shield between Evan and the chaotic hallway, cornering Evan against the wall. Evan sank to the floor, pulling his head into his hands as Connor stood guard, staring straight ahead and wondering vaguely why nothing felt real. The experiences that were happening didn't feel like they were actually happening to him and he clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, barely noting a pinched feeling in his palms when he dug his nails in.

A few minutes later, the hallway had mostly cleared out. Connor stepped away, leaning against the wall about five feet away. He didn't know what he should do but something kept him from fleeing the scene, at least until he knew Evan was at least mostly okay.

A few feet away, Evan cleared his throat, harshly dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his face and pulling himself to his feet, also leaning against the wall. They stood parallel, both staring straight ahead at the other side of the hallway, each too stubborn to spare a glance at the other but held in place by a mutual begrudging concern.

The minutes dragged on. Connor closed his eyes and a vision of Evan, angry and yelling only minutes before flashed into his mind. He shook his head as if to clear away the scene like an etch a sketch, but it was too late. The guilt had seeped in like water through a crack in the damn, and he bit his lip.

"It's dead," he mumbled quickly.

Evan's glanced over instinctively, surprised at the noise, but he immediately turned his head back and resumed staring at the wall.

Connor tried again.

"My, uh. My phone. Is dead. So." He paused, hoping Evan would reply. He didn't.

"So I wasn't like, ignoring you." He scuffed his toe into the linoleum tile, closing his eyes. He didn't know what else to say.

The silence grew thick before Evan finally replied.

"So then you fucking charge it." Evan's voice was a note higher than usual, concern and frustration detectable beneath a veil of anger.

"I'm gonna. I think I should go," Connor whispered.

"No," Evan snapped. Connor wanted to leave but he was so tired and the deeply human part of him that he tried so desperately to lock away tugged at him and he longed to stay, reach out, even, god forbid, talk things through, anything to make Evan happy. He stayed in place, silent.

Eventually it became clear that neither of them were going to speak again and Connor sighed.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he admitted, feeling small and angry and stupid and hungry.

"Did you break up with me?" Evan said, more a statement than a question.

Connor's thoughts muddled with a million answers and words and somehow the only one that came out was a choked out,"yes."

"Bullshit," Evan scoffed.

Connor saw him shake his head out of the corner of his eye, both of them still refusing to face the other one. He was so tired.

"We're not broken up. You can't just, you can't do that. It's bullshit and you know it. You're just scared, Connor. You're scared and you think you can just walk away but guess what?" His voice rose, almost hysterical, but he took a breath and continued on.

"I'm scared too, Connor. You're so _fucking_ selfish, you don't think I'm scared too? You don't think I see right fucking through you? We GET it you're closed off! You think you're a monster! You think you're gonna hurt me! And you're just, you're _using_ that as an excuse."

Connor opened his mouth, but closed it when Evan continued, pushing on, more angry than Connor had ever heard.

"You're such a goddamn coward and you're just using that as an excuse to push me away, like you've always pushed _everyone_ away cause that's what you always do, but you don't get to run away this time. You don't get to run away from this, from us, from ME.

You may have all these fucking walls but they're not as strong as they used to be. You let me in and it's not that easy to just kick me back out. We're no fucking different, you and me." His voice was low now, determined and fierce. "I know exactly what you're doing. We're both so fucking convinced that everyone hates us that we can't take our heads out of our own asses long enough to see that there's someone right next to us in the middle of this fucking hallway who does care. So if you think that I'm stupid enough to let you do this, to let you ruin this, cause you think you can just walk out, and I'll just let it, I'll be too scared to come after you, then you're..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, as if he'd run out of words.

"We're not broken up." He concluded. "Charge your phone."

He pushed his way off the wall and stalked off in the opposite direction, shoulders hunched and shaking, leaving Connor to stare his receding figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i am. nervous about this one so if you? like it pls let me know? wrote this instead of studying for midterms lmao. i wanna get the plot moving i feel like there's so much dialogue and not enough happening if that makes sense? but. we'll see where it goes from here. 
> 
> Shamelessly just gonna ask for comments because I live for validation and feedback.


	9. sprays of gold instead of grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry," he whispered. 
> 
> Evan gave the tiniest quirk of a smile, then reached out and hooked one of his feet behind Connor's ankle, signaling that all was forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i LOVE u all thank you for reading! i wrote this entire chapter sitting in a tree; evan would be so proud.   
> tw: can't think of any? other than the usual, disordered eating
> 
> title is from in flight by lowland hum

 

Connor did charge his phone. " _Because I miss listening to music_ ," he told himself, not wanting to admit that he still could never resist doing anything Evan asked him to. 

He had fifteen missed calls from Evan, six from Zoe, four from Alana, and 39 texts that he stubbornly refused to open.

While he was at it, he made his bed, took a shower, threw in a load of laundry, then laid on his bed with a blanket pulled over his face for half an hour while he waited for his clothes to be clean.

His brain felt as tired as his legs did a few miles into his run, and trying to focus was like trying to force himself to keep running when everything in him was screaming "stop, slow down, for the love of  _god,_  if you're going to keep moving, at least walk!"

But for one, he didn't know what to focus on; there was too much to be done. His room was still a wreck and he didn't want to clean it, he was behind in his class on the literature of self-representation and his astronomy class, which he had only taken to get his math/science requirement out of the way. His parents were also coming this week and things with Evan, he assumed, were still a mess.

Unwelcome, his therapist's voice popped up in his head.

"Just do the next thing, Connor!"

That was always her advice for when he got too behind in life by being the piece of shit human that he always was. She said, in her weird peppy-yet-gentle voice, that if he thought of all the things he  _wasn't_  doing, he would continue to not do any of them. But, if he were able to just pick one thing, the "next thing," then at least he'd have done something.

That was Christine, his therapist from back home. He'd loved her more than any of his previous therapists and they'd established a strong, trusting relationship just in time for Connor to move away. She had referred him to another therapist when he'd left for college, but he'd never clicked with this one, and found himself more and more getting absolutely nothing out of his sessions. He knew he'd soon start cancelling his sessions until this new therapist stopped calling to reschedule.

 

He kept his eyes shut, wishing he were listening to music but too tired to grab his phone and headphones. Suddenly, an alarm startled him out of his sullen reverie and he grabbed his phone, turning off the timer that let him know his laundry was done.   
 _"Guess getting my laundry is the next thing_ ," he thought begrudgingly, rolling off his bed and wincing at the violent rush of lightheadedness.

While he was folding his laundry, he turned on Continuum, his mom's favorite John Mayer album when he was growing up. The sound reminded him of being a little kid, coming home to a bright kitchen in early October when the sun set early in the afternoon, and he'd sneak candy corn out of the ceramic pumpkin on the kitchen table while his mom pretended she didn't see. That was before he started fucking up everything and everyone around him.

He checked in his mini-fridge for something to stave off the painful nagging of his stomach and found an old bag of frozen blueberries his mom had bought him over move-in weekend in a bought of optimism where she'd pictured him making smoothies. Pulling open the bag, he popped one in his mouth, then another, and another.

Pausing, he turned the bag over, eyeing it suspiciously until he found the number of calories. He took note of the serving size, then continued until he'd reached it. He then pulled his scale out from where he kept it in the space between his bed and his desk and entered his weight into his phone, realizing with a rush of pride that the number was dropping.

He looked up at his wall where the Botticelli's Venus de Milo stared back at him, a poster he'd bought back when he saw it at a flea market for two dollars because he thought it was weird, and also captivating. He also had a picture of him and Evan tacked up, next to a picture he'd taken at Zoe's birthday last year of her and Evan laughing with Zoe's other friends blurred in the background.

The only other things on his wall were weird little scraps of life, a stray page of a hymnal that had blown across the sidewalk in front of him one day and a sign he'd found nailed on a telephone pole advertising "dog for sale" with a picture of a snake and no contact number.

 

He left all his laundry folded and on his bed, too tired to put it into its proper place, then figured he should probably get some homework done. He walked across the street to the nearest coffee shop, ordered a chai tea latte with almond milk, and set to work. He managed to get through the online homework for his astronomy class fairly easily by copying and pasting all the questions into quizlet, then laid his head on his hands, folding into himself for a break.   
The coffee shop was so much  _louder_ than he'd remembered it being, and he just wanted to finish his work so he could leave without feeling guilty. Sufjan Steven's album Seven Swans trailed into his ears from his headphones, partially helping to quell the growing buzz in his head from the chatter of the coffee shop.

He finally raised his head and found the pdf with his reading, wishing he'd had the forethought to print it off so he wouldn't have to keep looking at his laptop. His eyes danced in and out of focus as the light from the screen burned into him.

He skimmed the first few pages, then glanced around the coffee shop. Normally at this point he'd take a break to sketch, but he seemed to have lost all desire to do anything, beyond even when he was in high school and at his most depressed. He couldn't even find it within him to fish around in his bag for his sketchbook and a pen. 

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of light hair caught his eye, and he started. Evan was sitting a few tables over, his head buried down into his laptop screen. His chair was tilted slightly away from Connor, which Connor took to mean that Evan knew he was there.

He sighed, bouncing his leg a little in indecision before he grabbed his bag, laptop, and now-lukewarm chai. He wove through the couple of tables, stopping abruptly right in front of Evan. Evan's eyes traveled from his laptop screen down to Connor's ratty boots, then slowly up his legs and toward his face where his eyes rested, looking unimpressed. It was a slow and agonizing examination, and Connor squirmed, suddenly wishing he hadn't come over.

Under Evan's scrutinizing gaze, he felt his expression falter and felt inexplicably like he was taking up far too much space. He was so tall that Evan practically had to crane his neck to see his face and he wanted to shrivel up and disappear, thinking about how huge and disgusting he was, how stringy and gross his hair was, how stupid he probably looked standing there silently, squirming like an idiot. He roughly pulled out the chair across from Evan and dropped himself into it, wanting to curl up as much as he could.

"I charged my phone," he half-whispered, holding it up where it dangled from his headphones, only one of which was still in his ear.

Evan gave a quick, tiny nod, a fleeting look of uncertainty betraying his composed facade before his stony expression returned, and Connor felt even smaller, remembering how he'd hurt Evan. He'd forced Evan away, cruelly and harshly with no explanation and then avoided him for days. Evan wasn't judging him, nor was he scared of him, he was just guarded. But even after everything, Evan didn't want them to be broken up. Evan still wanted him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  

Evan gave the tiniest quirk of a smile, then reached out and hooked one of his feet behind Connor's ankle, signaling that all was forgiven.

He looked back to his laptop screen and resumed his work, but the gentle pressure on Connor's ankle reassured him, and he dropped his bag to the floor and opened his own laptop. He wasn't sure how long Evan would stick around, especially with Connor's new diet consuming more and more of his time and energy, but he figured he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, getting their work done, and Connor realized that with Evan's warm presence to distract him from his headache and his hunger, he was able to focus better than he had in days.

Right as he neared the end of his reading, his ankles still tangled together with Evan's under the table, his stomach growled loudly.

"Good idea," said Evan, closing his laptop. "I'm starving too, let's eat."

Connor wanted to protest but he didn't want to argue with Evan so soon after they'd made up, and he really had hardly eaten anything in the past few days, so he figured one meal couldn't hurt, as long as he managed to sneak away and throw it up right after.

They packed their bags and threw away their drinks and as they left, Evan intertwined his fingers between Connor's, squeezing gently. Connor melted as the warmth from Evan's hands spread to his cold, bony ones.

"I missed you," Connor admitted quietly as they pushed through the doors.

"Your hands are  _freezing,"_ Evan replied, bringing his other hand around to hold Connor's one hand in both of his.

Connor tried to not let his reluctance show as they made their way to the dining hall. He gagged at the smell of all the food when they walked through the door. 

Connor quickly grabbed the "heart healthy" option, some chicken and broccoli dish, and made his way back to the booth where he pulled out his phone.

 _"how many calories are in chicken,"_ he quickly typed into google, then did the same with broccoli, trying his best to estimate how much was on his plate. 

He jumped out of his skin when Evan set his plate down across from him. Evan raised his eyebrows as he sat down. They talked for a bit: casual, easy conversation that neither of them had ever been able to quite replicate with anyone else. Connor allowed himself to sink into the comfort of being around Evan as he tried to quiet the voices that were screaming at him with every bite he took. A few bites in, his throat closed as if he refusing to eat any more, and he took a few gulps of water. His bites were smaller after that, and he made sure to chew each one at least twenty times and sip his water between them all. He finished all the broccoli and most of the chicken before Evan finally cleared his plate. They took their plates to the conveyor belt and then headed towards the door, where Evan stopped.

"I, uh. should probably head home," Evan said. "I have a 9 am tomorrow and I need to call my mom; I think she has tonight off so. I told her we could skype."

Connor nodded, hair falling into his face a bit. Evan reached up and gently tucked it behind Connor's ear, leaving his hand to rest on Connor's cheek. Connor closed his eyes and leaned into the familiar touch, bringing up his own hand and placing it on top of Evan's. They stood there for a few moments until Connor turned his face, holding Evan's hand in place so he could kiss the palm. The corners of Evan's mouth turned up.   
"I'll see you tomorrow?" he offered.

Connor nodded and Evan turned and headed out the door, turning to give Connor a little wave before he vanished into the darkness.

The weight in Connor's stomach lurched, and he turned back around to the cafeteria bathrooms. They were bound to be busy but Connor didn't want to wait till he got home; he wanted to be empty as soon as he could. He went into the farthest stall, the handicapped one, and hung his hoodie and his bag on the hook. He pulled his hair up into a bun as he fell to his knees, the cold tile hitting him through his jeans.

He closed his eyes for a second, dreading what he knew was coming, but soon he opened them and brought his hand to his mouth, as the desire to get rid of what he ate compelled him to press through. He finished soon enough, wiping his mouth on his wrist and sitting down with his head against the wall. He stayed there for a few moments before he finally decided to head out.

He got back, changed his clothes, recorded his weight, and fell asleep with a golden hope burning in his chest at the knowledge that he was going to get to see Evan tomorrow, that he wasn't completely alone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!   
> as always, if you leave a comment i will   
> 1\. love you forever and   
> 2\. be way more likely to update sooner lol
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr! @veganconnor


	10. pretend the fog has lifted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor took a step forward, closing the space between them, then grabbed Evan's face in both of his hands, pausing for a moment before kissing him fiercely. Evan's lips parted briefly in surprise before he laughed into the kiss, wrapping his soft arms around Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like this one i think! there's angst and there's fluff and even something mayhaps bordering on smut? it's pretty tame but still. 
> 
> chapter title is from dilaudid by the mountain goats (incidentally who i hc connor's favorite band to be)

The next day he and Evan met up for a coffee after their afternoon classes, talking and laughing and sneaking kisses across the table. It was easy and sweet, and if it weren't for the pain twisting in his gut from the hunger, and the headache pushing against his skull like a slowly expanding balloon, Connor wouldn't have had a care in the world.

Except.

Except it was Thursday. And as much as he'd tried to avoid thinking about it, that meant his parents were going to get here tomorrow.

And Zoe, who he still was dutifully ignoring, though Evan had shot her a text to let her know Connor was okay.

" _Little does he know_ ," thought Connor grimly. The number he'd found on the scale this morning had been lower than it'd been in years. He couldn't remember much about his weight over the past few years, but he knew there was no way he'd approached this number in recent memory.

He googled the average weight for his height, and was pleased to find himself in the "underweight" category.

Continued research had led him to a BMI calculator, where he'd spent some time in entering different numbers.

He figured out how much more he'd need to lose to get to the "dangerously underweight" range, steeling his resolve to maintain his diet over the weekend.

He went to Starbucks and ordered an ice water, sipping it while he did homework until it was time for his last class of the day. He was finding it more and more exhausting to exist on a day-to-day basis. Things he had never thought of as requiring much energy now left him weary and drained.

This morning he had to sit down after getting dressed to catch his breath.

Now, as he walked the short distance from the coffee shop to his lecture, he felt like he was running a marathon. The building was within sight, but it may as well have been miles away. He stared down at his feet as stars danced in and out of his vision, watching as he somehow managed to keeping placing one foot in front of the other.

Somehow, he made it through his classes, daydreaming about fried chicken and poptarts. And kitkats and cheetos and egg rolls and all sorts of other foods, even ones he used to hate. He headed towards the building biology building; they had agreed to meet when Evan's lab ended.

Soon, students began swarming out the doors and Connor leaned against the brick, feeling the rough texture against his scalp. He startled when a hand grabbed his, opening his eyes to see Evan staring up at him, eyes twinkling.

"You're awfully jumpy," Evan remarked.

Connor just shrugged and started off in the direction of Evan's dorm, surprised when he felt Evan tugging.

"I thought we could go to your place," Evan suggested, his tone measured, careful.

A shadow fell over Connor's eyes as he thought about the disgusting wreckage that currently filled his room. Evan noticed the shift in Connor's expression and rushed on.

"I know, Connor, I know that Something's going on, like I know, you're not okay. I just thought, you know, with," he paused, not wanting to make Connor anxious by bringing up his family's impending visit. "With this weekend, you might want, like.

I'll clean it. Or, help you.

Your room.

If, like, just if you haven't felt up for it the past couple days.

Which, maybe you have and maybe your room is like, totally clean, sorry that was, that was so presumptuous of me? What do I know? Sorry I just, you know, if you haven't, I could, you know... I thought I'd offer."

Connor blinked and Evan tried not to squirm.

"Oh," he blinked again. "I mean, yeah, I guess so. Like, you're right. It wasn't presumptuous it's. It _is_ pretty dirty so, you were right about that but like. You don't have to clean my room. I can do it myself."

He tried to keep the defensiveness hidden but it seeped into his words and Evan nodded, glancing down and tangling their hands together, twisting his fingers around Connor's in a little fidgety dance.

"I know, but I just. I like doing things for you," Evan glanced up, shy and nervous, the way he'd been when they'd first started dating.

"Oh." Connor said again, wishing his brain would work faster.

"I, yeah. I mean. I guess we can go to mine?" he offered helplessly.

Evan nodded, once, firmly, and they took off.

The last remnants of sunlight glittered through the leaves as dusk fell around them.

About halfway to Connor's building, he stopped walking abruptly. Evan turned, raising his eyebrows in confusion, and his blue eyes glinted in the light of a nearby lamppost illuminating the sidewalk.

Connor took a step forward, closing the space between them, then grabbed Evan's face in both of his hands, pausing for a moment before kissing him fiercely. Evan's lips parted briefly in surprise before he laughed into the kiss, wrapping his soft arms around Connor.

The kiss was off balance--Connor was frantic, pressing his mouth desperately into his Evan's like their first kisses, messy and naive, before they grew used to each other, used to the intimacy.

Evan accommodated him, languid and slow, letting one of his hands drift up to Connor's hair, where he toyed with the ends of it gently. Then, as quickly as Connor had lunged into the kiss, he jerked away, still holding Evan's face but staring at him, his expression so intense it seemed almost angry.

Then he blushed, embarrassed, as he noticed Evan fighting back a smile.

Pressing his thumbs into the dimples that appeared, he muttered, "Stop that."

Evan bit his lip in an attempt to fight back the smile and Connor scowled.

"Stop laughing at me," he whined, dropping his hands and staring down at his feet, toes turned inward towards each other like they always did when he felt uncomfortable.

"Hey," Evan placed a hand on Connor's chest, light as a feather, and trailed his fingers up to his neck until they came to curl around Connor's chin.

The smile finally broke across Evan's face as he leaned up, kissing the furrow between Connor's eyebrows, then the tip of his nose. His thumb reached up to where Connor was chewing on his bottom lip and nudged at it. Connor reluctantly released it and Evan skimmed his thumb across Connor's lips, soft and sweet as Connor pouted.

"Wasn't laughing at you," said Evan, overly serious.

"Were too," Connor mumbled, then bit at Evan's thumb playfully, finally meeting his eyes. Evan moved his hand up, running the tips of his fingers gently all over Connor's face, and Connor had to close his eyes at the intensity of Evan's gaze. They were still standing in the middle of the sidewalk but neither moved, not wanting to break the spell.

Evan stepped closer, touching his forehead to Connor's, and let his eyes fall shut as well. They kissed again, both of them careful and slow this time. Evan tangled his hands into Connor's hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and Connor pressed his leg between Evan's, letting his hands roam across Evan's shoulders and down to the small of his back, where they settled, pulling Evan's body into his own.

Evan tugged at Connor's hair and felt the tension melt out of Connor's body. He loved when Connor got like this, open and willing, and he tugged harder, eliciting a shudder and the smallest hint of a moan. They stayed that way for a moment, Evan's hands wrapped up in Connor's hair, Connor's clasped around Evan's lower back as they kissed.

Evan pulled again, this time harder, and Connor whined and ground his hips down, onto Evan's thigh. Evan pressed his leg forward and felt Connor's whole body twitch as his breath caught.

Evan always surprised himself with his own confidence, but with the way Connor always got, so pliable and needy, he somehow found it instinctive to lead the way. He felt Connor whine into the kiss as he dug his thigh up harshly to return the friction, trailing his hands down Connor's back and slipping them up underneath the fabric of Connor's tshirt and hoodie.

The moment his hands touched the bare skin, Connor sprang away like he'd been burned.

Evan lurched off balance, opening his eyes to see Connor staring at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. His body twisted awkardly around itself, arms crossed against his stomach in at X as he pulled the hem of his shirt down. He was angled away from Evan, legs almost tangling over each other as though he were about to run away and hadn't yet figured out which direction he was going to run in.

Evan took in the sight in an instant, and, fighting down his confusion, he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, taking a small step back to give Connor space.

Connor shrank into himself, so wild and wolfish that Evan half-expected him to snarl. Whatever energy had been flowing between them just moments before dissipated, and they stared at each other.  

After a long, painful pause, they each opened their mouths to speak at the same time. Evan stopped talking and gestured for Connor to continue, who only shook his head.

"You good?" Evan asked, wincing at the slight annoyance in his tone. He wasn't actually annoyed as much as he was confused, and frustrated with himself for not intuitively knowing what was going to set Connor off.

"Yeah, I.." His voice came out raspy and he cleared his throat. "Fine," he muttered.   
"I fine," Evan repeated, sighing. "That's convincing."

"I'm _fine._ " Connor coughed out. "Sorry."

Evan raised his eyebrows and let his shoulders fall helplessly as he glanced off to the side.

"Me too?" he offered, unsure if he needed to be apologizing. "I just didn't... should I not have..?" 

"Sorry no you're, you're fine, sorry you didn't do anything, sorry I don't know why I freaked out, sorry I'm, I don't mean to be like this I shouldn't have, I don't know, I didn't, sorry I just, I just, I don't know what happened--" he stumbled over his words, voice strained as he stared at the sky. When Evan finally glanced back at the mess before him he saw Connor shoving his hands up the sleeves of his hoodie and raking his fingernails harshly down his arms, over and over, leaving a trail of white marks that soon turned to red in their wake.   
"Con," Evan whined, taking a tiny step forward.

Connor shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, face still turned up toward the sky, as he continued scratching at his arms, over and over, faster and faster.

"Connor. _Connor_ ," Evan waited a moment for a reply, staring as Connor's curls fell off his shoulder, as he continued his violent scratching.

"Connor, come back. Come back baby, I'm right here." Evan paused again, but still no reaction.

"It's okay. _Please_ stop Connor, just look at me." He took another step forward.

"Can I touch you?" He couldn't see Connor's expression, just his chest, moving far too fast as his breathing sped up.

He choked out a tiny noise, unable to continue watching Connor tear at his own arms, and reached out, quickly catching each of Connor's hands carefully, tightening his grip when Connor tugged away, compelled to continue his self-destruction. Evan pressed Connor's hands together between both of his own, clasping them tightly as Connor squirmed.

"Hey, hey, come back, Con, come back," he pleaded, letting his forehead rest on their tangled hands. Eventually he felt Connor stop trying to pull his hands away but the rest of his body was still pulled taut, alight with tension.

He continued to press Connor's hands together between his own, not wanting to risk letting go. Eventually he lifted his face, and waited, afraid to startle Connor. He heard the buzz of the moths gathering around the streetlamp and tried not to sigh as he waited.

Finally Connor looked down from the sky, blinking a few times as if to clear his vision.

He glanced down at their hands, at Evan, as if surprised to see him standing there.

"Oh." he muttered. "You can go."

Evan gave a tiny smile and dropped one of Connor's hands, lacing their fingers together and setting off in the direction of Connor's dorm.

Connor dragged his feet a bit but followed along, trying to keep his breathing steady. They tapped their student ID's to sign in and Connor watched as Evan used his knuckle to push the elevator button, a habit he'd adopted when his OCD manifested as intense germaphobia.

Connor fumbled with the door, wincing as it swung open to reveal the wreckage strewn across his floor, wishing he'd at least made his bed. He scrunched up his face and half-turned to Evan, embarrassed as he kicked a towel out of the way to clear enough room to walk in. Evan just tapped Connor's hip three times, signaling " _i love you,"_ then walked around him to the desk. He grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers off the pile of laundry Connor had done a few days earlier but still hadn't bothered to put away, and shoved them at Connor.

Connor's eyebrow twitched and Evan stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Connor's mouth, light as a feather.

"Shower," he prompted. "You'll feel better."

Connor swallowed down his uncertainty, determined to be accommodating when Evan was being so kind to him. He took another deep breath, grabbed a pair of sweatpants and his towel, and headed down the hall to the showers.

He tried not to panic as he undressed, thinking about Evan in his room all alone, thinking of all the secrets he'd been keeping from Evan recently with his new diet and wondering if Evan would figure it out--see the scale where it was stashed between his bed and his desk or notice some other tangible sign of it.

His paranoia faded as soon as he stepped into the shower, feeling the streams of water tug through his curls and plaster them to his back. He showered quickly, then allowed himself to stand in the water for another five minutes before he decided he didn't want to keep Evan waiting and turned off the water. He dried off too quickly, and felt the material of his sweatshirt absorbing the water droplets still on his shoulder.

Once he returned to his room, he saw Evan, putting his clean laundry into the chest of drawers under his bed. He had made the bed and righted the chair--it'd still been on the floor from when Connor had had a tantrum and thrown it.

"Thank you," he mumbled, but the words stuck in his throat and a one-syllable squeak is all that came out.

Evan smiled softly, glancing over.   
"One to ten?"

"Uh." Connor paused. "I don't know." It was the most truthful answer he could think to give but he bit his lip and thought for a second as Evan continued putting away clothes.

"Three...?"

Evan gave him a look that said, "yeah, right," and he looked down at his ugly feet, toes stacked awkwardly on top of each other. He walked over to the drawers to grab a pair of socks, suddenly self-conscious, and pulled them on his feet still standing, switching from one leg to the next like a stupid flamingo as Evan closed the last drawer.

Once he had his socks on he took a step towards Evan and, eyes averted, drummed all five fingers of his left hand across Evan's shoulder, one at a time. He waited a beat, then tapped the forefinger of his right hand as well, making six total.

Evan nodded, "'s what I thought."

Connor felt Evan's body rise and fall beneath his hand, his breathing even, steady.

"Wanna talk?" Evan offered. 

Connor shook his head so hard his curls flicked water droplets everywhere.

"Not," Evan amended, "not about what happened on the way here. If you don't want to. Just, about anything. Whatever's going on up there." He shifted and glanced up at Connor's head.

Connor shook his head again, less violently this time. He felt in the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone and pulled it out.

He texted Evan. 

" _can't."_

_"right now at least"_

_"not tonight"_

_"m sorry_ "

Evan read the texts as Connor typed them.

"It's okay, baby, it happens. You should try to get some sleep," he said aloud.

There was distance between them, Evan not wanting to risk touching Connor after what had happened earlier.

"I think I'm gonna go home," he said after a pause.

" _don't want you to leave_ " Connor texted.

"I just. Okay I, just don't wanna. overwhelm you or anything," Evan's nose scrunched in uncertainty.

" _you can go if you want"_

_"m tired"_

_"i sleep better when ur here"_

_"u can go though. if you want."_

Evan read the texts, nodding.

"Yeah, no, I'll stay," he said aloud, "I'm gonna steal a t shirt though."

Evan flipped through Connor's shirts while Connor climbed into bed, twisting his hair into one big ringlet and squeezing all the water onto the floor, then tucking his legs up underneath him and pulling out his phone. He opened his Spotify and texted a link to Evan, communicating as best he could even when talking seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

Evan glanced at his phone, then up at Connor, smiling.

"The Dixie Chicks??"

Connor tapped at his phone as he stretched towards the bottom of his bed to plug it in for the night.

" _it's a good song_ "

Evan walked over and turned out the light, then made his way back to the bed, where he shimmied out of his khakis and into Connor's bed. Placing his phone on the pillow between their heads, he pushed play, and they lay on their backs next to each other, holding hands as the Dixie Chicks played quietly.

 

_And I've got all the world to lose_

_But I just want to hold on to the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u enjoyed  
> my favorite thing is when people comment with something that stood out to them or made them think of something  
> (or literally anything i'm a slut for comments but we been knew)


	11. i'll fight like hell to hide that i've given up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I repeat, why do you care??" Connor asked, desperate. "You just want to be able to send out a Christmas card of your perfect little family and look like you have all your shit together and be able to pretend to all your friends that you don't have a faggot for a son!"  
> A hush fell over the table.  
> Larry opened his mouth and then closed it, and Cynthia made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like something between a squeak and a sob.  
> "Son, we.." Larry started.  
> Zoe raised her eyebrows, glancing away.  
> "Son, that's just. that's very unfair. Your mother and I have worked very hard to make you feel accepted. You know we're very accepting of all of this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im the worst ik it's been AGES since i last updated but i honestly felt so much pressure? writing this? the Murphy Family Dinner Scenes™️ tend to make or break fics for a lot of people so i wanted to get it right, i think.  
> i based a lot of this on real experiences/conversations with my family and my friends' families so while it might not be universally relatable, i'm hoping it'll at least come across as realistic.  
> anyway! blease validate me in the comments, i'd really love feedback on this one. 
> 
> chapter title is from another travelin' song by bright eyes
> 
> TW: disordered eating, self-induced vomiting (i know it seems from the summary that there's homophobia but there's not really, everyone's trying their best)

Connor awoke the next morning to a sliver of sun streaming in through the corner of his window, turning Evan's hair golden where he lay still sleeping. What he wouldn't give, he thought, to stay like this forever. If he never had to get out of bed he'd never have to eat. He could lie with Evan all day and ignore all responsibilities and feel at peace and feel at home. A pain in his gut twisted, jolting him out of his reverie, reminding him that his family was coming today. He grasped for his phone, and lost himself mindlessly scrolling and closing and re-opening apps, trying to distract himself but too dizzy to really commit to getting up or focusing on anything.  
He scrolled fascter, not reading or processing, feeling his eyes glaze over as his thoughts sped up. He normally comforted himself when his parents came with the thought of free food, really good, expensive meals at nice restaurants where the waiters winked as they served wine to him and Zoe even though they were clearly underage, because that's how things work when your parents radiate "I'm a fancy rich lawyer and this is my wife who singlehandedly keeps Lululemon in business" vibes.

Now, he didn't know what he'd do. At dinner tonight, or to keep his family entertained for the weekend.  
He finally shut off his phone and dropped it onto his chest, then flopped over, slinging his arm and leg over Evan. Immediately he cringed, hyperconscious of the weight now pushing down into Evan and he shifted, trying to redistribute so he wasn't so fat and awful, crushing his boyfriend. He buried his face into Evan's chest, trying to even his breathing. A few moments later, Evan shifted slightly and he felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head.  
"Morning, baby."  
Connor grumbled a response into Evan's chest, who pulled back.  
"'d you say?"  
"I said you sound hot," Connor grumbled, turning his face up to press it into Evan's neck. "Always do, in the mornings, your voice is all deep and scratchy."  
Evan quirked an eyebrow, slipping a hand into Connor's hair where his head rested, tucked beneath Evan's chin, "'f you say so."  
"There it is again," Connor whined and Evan snorted in response.  
Evan sleepily patted the area around them, feeling for his phone.  
"'S plugged in. I plugged it in a few hours ago 'cause I woke up." Connor muttered.  
"You're so thoughtful," Evan said quietly and Connor squirmed. Evan had a habit of doing that, giving little reassurances and compliments under his breath as though he was talking to himself, making observations, but they were always meant for Connor to hear and not feel the pressure to respond to.  
"We should get up," Connor muttered half-heartedly, deflecting.  
"Mmmph," Evan grumbled, pulling Connor closer. He rolled over onto his back, hoisting Connor up to lay directly on top of him. Connor's breath caught and he wriggled in Evan's grasp.  
"Quit moving."  
"Wait, I'm, Ev, I'm gonna squish you, Evan, stop, I'm too heavy."  
Evan scoffed but let Connor roll off of him and slide out of the bed. They managed to pull themselves together, Evan wearing Connor's t-shirt he'd slept in with his jeans from the day before, and Connor wearing a one of those dumb henley t-shirts with the three buttons at the top that Evan had thrown him, knowing Connor felt the need to look a little nice for his parents and wouldn't know what to wear.  
"I look so preppy," Connor whined, tugging at the hem.  
"Preppy?? If anything you look skater or something," Evan said, walking over to wrap his arms around Connor, who twisted away out of Evan's grasp, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face.  
Evan faltered but decided against saying anything, and they headed out the door, grabbing coffee before heading off to their respective classes.  
Connor tapped his pencil incessantly throughout his lectures, much to the annoyance of the people around him, but he couldn't help himself with the thought of seeing his family later.  
His mom texted that they'd likely arrive around 5 pm.  
Connor's last class let out at 2 and he sat under a tree in a little grassy area near the campus buildings, letting his eyes fall closed. He couldn't remember the last time he wasn't deeply exhausted, down to his bones, the last time he didn't feel on the verge of fainting.  
Soon enough, his phone was blowing up with his mom letting him know they were trying to find parking and Zoe texting him that they were almost there and Evan asking where he should meet up with Connor and he gnawed at the inside of his lip, trying not to let himself get worked up. Whatever thoughts were flying around his brain he shut down, letting his body run on autopilot. Somehow he found himself walking towards Evan, who stood waiting near the main campus. They kissed in greeting, then stood quietly, waiting.  
Moments later, Cynthia called to ask where they were, sounding excited and a little frantic. Connor glanced around him as he tried to find a landmark to offer his mom to find them.  
"Just come to the Saverin Center, on eighth street... if you parked near the student center.. yeah, then yeah, you're close. Just have dad put it in his phone, you're literally right there. Yeah. Okay, love you too, okay, see you in a minute."  
He hung up and sighed, already tired.  
Evan reached down to toy with his hand.  
"It'll be okay, babe."  
Connor blew out a breath of annoyance.  
A minute later, the Murphys rounded the corner and Connor pushed off the tree to meet them, Evan trailing behind.  
Cynthia immediately hugged Connor, then Evan. Zoe stood back a bit. Larry hugged Connor briefly, with a rough pat on the back, then shook Evan's hand. Zoe threw up a peace sign as and Connor returned the gesture before she broke into a grin and hugged him. A flurry of greetings were exchanged and then they stood, a bit awkward, before Cynthia clapped her hands.  
"Well! We have reservations at the Polo Bar at 5:45! A little early but I didn't call until a few days ago and this was the only time they could fit us in. I hope everyone's hungry, their food is just divine. And you boys are both so skinny!! We'll get you good and fed."  
Connor felt his stomach lurch at the reference to his body but he swallowed down his panic and nodded amicably.  
"Wanna give us the campus tour, son?" Larry suggested.  
Connor wanted to reply that they'd been before, but didn't want to push buttons before he had to, so he set off walking aimlessly, letting the rest follow behind. He and Evan tag teamed, pointing out building where they had various classes and trying to come up with anecdotes to share.  
After a long and only slightly painful walk around the campus Cynthia checked the time on her fit bit and announced they should probably head back to the car to get to their reservation on time.  
Connor felt stuck in his own head, grateful Evan and Zoe were there to play along and help things move smoothly. As they meandered towards the parking lot Connor felt his vision start to go dark around the edges and tried to focus on Evan's golden hair in front of him, placing one foot in front of the other until, ages later, they made it back to the parking lot. They piled in, Connor squished in the middle of the back seat between Zoe and Evan, who grabbed Connor's hand and squeezed it tightly.  
He zoned out for the rest of the ride, grateful just to finally be sitting down.

  
Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the parking lot and piled out towards the restaurant. A smiley girl in a black dress led them to a round, cloth covered table in the back of the restaurant next to a wall of a dark oak shelves stacked with dozens of bottles of red wine.  
Evan sandwiched himself between Cynthia and Connor, who sat next to Zoe, who sat next to Larry.  
"Your server will be right with you," the hostess chirped, then left the table in a silence. The five busied themselves looking at the menus, and Connor tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong in the next two hours. He forced his eyes to focus as best he could, equal parts nauseated by and drawn to the array of options.  
"What is everyone else thinking about getting?" Cynthia fretted, "I can't decide."  
"I'm leaning towards the filet mignon," Zoe mused.  
"Like father, like daughter," Larry grinned, " 'Atta girl, I was thinking the same thing!"  
Connor felt his heart speed up as he scanned the menu frantically. Steak was immediately out of the question; he knew beef was one of the most calorie dense foods. Pasta was no good either, all they offered was Fettucini Alfredo and he knew it'd be way too rich.  
"What about you, Evan?" Cynthia asked.  
"Uh, I, uh was thinking maybe the french onion soup?"  
"Well for an appetizer, sure, but not for your meal! You need real food, not just soup!"  
Connor glanced up at Larry's voice to see Evan smile but bite his lip a bit.  
"It's all on us, of course," Cynthia added gently.  
Evan blushed a bit and nodded, still smiling awkwardly, and Connor squirmed. Though this wasn't the first time Evan had gone out to eat with the Murphy's, he was never able to get used to the concept of spending $30 on an entree.  
"Uh, the lemon-pepp-,lemon pepper chicken sounds good?" Evan offered, and Connor scanned the prices to see that, of course Evan had chosen one of the cheapest options.  
Thankfully, right when Connor could tell the conversation was about to turn to him, their waiter walked up and asked what they wanted to drink.  
"I'll have a glass of Merlot," Larry announced.  
"I'm sorry, sir, we only sell Merlot by the bottle. I can get you a glass of our house red, a Cabernet Sauvignon?"  
"Mm, that's alright, Zoe, if I get the Merlot will you drink a glass?"  
Zoe nodded.  
"Cynthia?"  
"Oh, but I think I want the salmon, though, so I can't have red," she mused.  
Larry glanced back up at the waiter, who stood expectantly. "We'll take a bottle of Merlot and a bottle of your house white," he announced.  
"That'll be a pinot grigio," The waiter confirmed, and Larry nodded.  
The waiter left and the Cynthia closed her menu.  
"So! How's college life? How are your classes and professors! We miss you boys!"  
Evan and Connor glanced at each other, each daring the other to reply first. Evan bit his lip and Connor sighed.  
"Classes are fine, I like my art class and my writing professor is really cool." Connor paused, hoping he'd said enough, but Cynthia and Larry just nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
"She, uh, she was in the peace corps for a few years and she's done a bunch of work with human rights activism, getting girls out of human trafficking and stuff. Then when she was like, in her late forties she decided she wanted to get her Masters in literature, so she did, and now she teaches all these classes about, like... like the one that I'm in is like, the post-war literature of self-representation but instead of just books we also look at a bunch of art pieces that are all really cool, cause her wife is a photographer and performance artist so. She's pretty well-versed in that world too."  
He looked around the table at his family, registering the mild shock on all their faces. He guessed it'd been a while since he'd actually showed interest in academics in general, much less been able to recount in detail the coursework and life's story of his professors. Suddenly uncomfortable with all the attention, he glanced down at his hands in his lap, twisting the napkin brutally tight between his fingers and tugging to cut off the circulation.  
"Well that's lovely!" Cynthia exclaimed, and he smiled a bit into his lap, feeling proud of himself even though it seemed stupid, since he hadn't really accomplished much other than Not Being an Apathetic Disappointment for Once.

  
From there the conversation flowed pretty naturally, much to everyone's pleasant surprise.  
Apparently Zoe had been training for a half-marathon, and Connor mentioned that he'd also taken up running recently. Larry was thrilled, as neither of his kids had been particularly athletic growing up and now they both were working out on their own terms! Cynthia talked about her new soul cycle instructor, and Evan and Larry engaged about a recent controversy regarding a Supreme Court decision repealing significant protection against deforestation.  
Connor was just starting to relax when the waiter returned to take their orders.  
The rest of the table placed their orders. Larry intervened and added a cup of french onion soup for Evan, despite Evan's insistence he didn't need it, and after everyone else ordered the waiter finally stared at Connor expectantly.  
"Crab legs," he blurted out impulsively. "Please," he added a little quieter, wincing as he glanced down to see the high price attached. He figured he could fiddle away with the shells to distract from how little he planned on eating.  
Conversation picked back up, and Connor tried to ignore the increasing panic building up in his throat as time passed and the inevitable moment approached when their food would come.  
He excused himself to the bathroom and ducked into to stall at the very end, tugging his phone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans, and googling "how many calories are in crab legs," and then "how many calories are in white wine," trying to commit to memory all the nutrition facts as quickly as he could so he could keep track of how much he was eating throughout the meal.  
Not wanting to draw attention by being gone for too long, he quickly washed his hands, turning the water as hot as it would go before drying his hands with the fancy paper towels that felt like cloth.  
He returned to the table and Evan hooked his ankle around Connor's under the table in reassurance. He continued going through the motions, doing his best to be animated and engaging though he couldn't much process the conversation over the roar of the rushing blood in his ears.  
All too soon the waiters arrived, entrees in tow. Connor raised his eyebrows at his waiter, nodding in thanks, while waiting for the rest of his family to receive their food. Larry said grace and then they all began to eat.  
Connor stared at his plate, trying not to let his labored breathing show. The crab legs were piled high, next to a rice pilaf, a slice of lemon, the little pliers necessary to crack open the shells, and a bowl of sizzling hot melted butter to dip the crab meat in.  
He refilled his glass with the white wine that sat in a bucket of ice next to the table, then took a sip of his water before setting to work with his pliers, breaking the leg apart at the joint and tugging out the meat attached. He tore the little piece into two with his knife and fork, then made as if to dip in in the butter, letting it dangle nearby without actually dipping it in for a moment before putting it in his mouth and chewing, counting obsessively as he ground the tiny piece into oblivion. Despite his panic, he reveled in the taste, unable to recall the last time he'd eaten food this nice. He managed to make quite a show of eating his crab legs without actually consuming much. He made a mistake though, when he took a bite of the rice. He fucking loved rice, and it reminded him how empty his stomach was, how desperate his body was for food. He squeezed the lemon onto the the rice, hoping he'd be able to restrict himself to just a couple more bites, but after every bite he'd think, "just one more."  
He still chewed carefully, obsessively, slowly, a little too caught up in his food until he glanced up to see everyone looking at him expectantly.  
"Hm?" he offered.  
"I was just asking if you'd thought any more about cutting your hair?" Cynthia asked hopefully.  
"No. I kinda wanna get my nose pierced though," he replied impulsively, immediately regretting the words.  
Larry sighed dramatically and Cynthia looked like he'd announced he was interested in pursuing necrophilia.  
"Son, you're never gonna get a job looking like that. Show me one serious person in the field you want to work in with all that shit in their face? We've worked so hard to give you the opportunity to pursue a career of your choice." He paused for a moment. "Don't you think it's a little selfish of you?"  
Connor glanced down, fuming.  
"Dad, no one cares anymore," Zoe said. "Besides, he's only a sophomore, he can just take it out when he has job interviews."  
"But still, what kind of impression do you want to give off? You can't just permanently alter your appearance at the age of 18, you know you're going to regret it later."  
"Nineteen," Connor whispered into his lap, too tired to fight back. He felt small and belittled and thought about the stick and poke tattoos on his hips and ribs that he'd managed to hide for a few years.  
"Sweetie, it's just that, it really impacts people's perceptions of you, and it reflects on us also," Cynthia implored.  
"Why do you care?" he begged, wishing the topic could have been avoided altogether.  
"I mean, just, please try to see this from our perspective. What kind of father would I be if I just let you do whatever you wanted to yourself? When I was your age I loved Bruce Springsteen but do you think I wish I had his name tattooed on my back?"  
Connor sat silently, knowing it was a rhetorical question.  
"You're gonna have a hole in your face permanently."  
"That makes it sound so dramatic. And anyway, if I got a septum piercing it wouldn't show once I took it out," he reasoned.  
"Septum piercing?" Larry asked, and Zoe motioned toward the middle of her nose, "One of the little rings."  
"Oh sweetie, you'd look like a bull!" Cynthia exclaimed.  
"I repeat, why do you care??" Connor asked, desperate.  
"You just want to be able to send out a Christmas card of your perfect little family and look like you have all your shit together and be able to pretend to all your friends that you don't have a faggot for a son!"  
A hush fell over the table.  
Larry opened his mouth and then closed it.  
"Son, we.." Larry started.  
Zoe raised her eyebrows, glancing away.  
"Son, that's just. that's very unfair. Your mother and I have worked very hard to make you feel accepted. You know we're very accepting of all of this." He gestured vaguely towards Connor and Evan. "We've tried to adjust, to learn how to deal with it all. Everything you've done to this family, we've dealt with--"

"Everything I've done to this family? What does that even mean?! I'm gay, Dad. It's not hurting anyone. It's not a crime. At least not in America. I'm sorry that me liking boys makes you feel oppressed, but it's just really not that fucking deep. And, contrary to what you might have been told, accepting gay people doesn't make you a good person, it just means you at least _kind of_ grasp the concept of basic human decency. You're not gonna get some sort of fucking certificate or trophy or some shit. Hate to break it to you."  
Cynthia and Larry glanced at each other.  
"Connor, what your father means is that, it's a lot to keep adjusting to.. all these new ideas about gender and sexuality your generation has it's.. it's not like that with us. I mean, you remember Emily? Zoe's best friend from elementary school? She's a boy now!"  
"Mom!" Zoe interjected.

"What? She is!"

"They're not a boy and they're not a she, they're non-binary."  
"Okay but that's exactly what I mean," Larry interjected. "You can't just make up all these new words and then get mad at people for not being able to keep up."  
"It's a pretty fucking self-explanatory word, and anyway, Connor isn't even non-binary? He just wanted a nose piercing. But anyway, he's right. You guys care way too much about what we look like" Zoe said.  
"We just want what's best for you, and what you look like matters in the world, like it or not," Cynthia announced.  
"Oh, is that why you've had two nose jobs?" Connor asked bitterly.

Cynthia wilted, touching her nose defensively.   
"How dare you speak to your mother that way?" Larry snarled, and Connor knew that if they'd been at home instead of in a fancy restaurant, he'd probably be getting yelled at.  
He glanced down, and, as if things could get any worse, he realized he'd finished all of his rice.  
"Excuse me for a moment," he said, overly polite, and pushed up from his chair, blacking out for a split second before stalking off towards the bathroom, his whole body taut with frustration. There was only one restroom, and the door was locked, so he leaned against the wall, scrubbing his hands over his face and grimacing at the feeling of food in his stomach. The door to the restroom opened, and he slid in behind the person leaving, locking the door and sliding down onto his knees and shoving up the sleeve of his shirt--all in one fluid motion. His hair fell in a halo around him and he pulled it back into a bun before reaching towards the back of his throat, trying to be as quick and as quiet as possible. He scratched hard, ignoring the instinct to pull his fingers out as his throat constricted. He hacked loudly as he managed to cough up some food, barely allowing himself time to spit it all out before shoving his fingers back down his throat. He repeated the cycle two or three more times then stood up and flushed the toilet, still trying to move quickly.

He felt better, calmer, more equipped to return to the table and deal with his shitty family.  
He used his clean hand to turn on the water and scrubbed all the vomit off his hand. He glanced into the mirror to see a few tears streaking down his cheeks, forced up from the pressure of his actions. His eyelashes glittered, stuck together with tears. He grabbed a paper towel and dried off his face, then his hands. He stared back into the mirror, trying to determine if the redness around his eyes would be enough to draw any attention. Regardless, being gone for too long was sure to draw attention, so he took a deep breath and opened the door, head dropped low.

  
A pair of dark red doc martens greeted him, and his gaze travelled up to where Zoe stood waiting, a neutral expression on her face.  
Connor's stomach lurched in fear, wondering if she'd been able to hear him hacking up his meal over the commotion of the restaurant.  
"Better head back to the shitshow," she said. "Don't wanna leave poor Evan there alone for too long."  
"Shit," Connor muttered under his breath. He'd almost forgotten about Evan.

  
When he returned to the table, three masks stared back at him. Cynthia's thin facade of amicability over a gentle desperation, Evan's panic only clear in his wide eyes, the rest of his face betraying little trace of discomfort, and Larry, closed off and implacable.  
"How are the crab legs?" Cynthia asked and Connor had to resist the urge to laugh.  
Of fucking course, his family was going to deal with this whole fiasco the way they dealt with most things--ignoring it.  
"Delicious," he replied, rolling his eyes. Cynthia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, and Larry reached for the red, filling his glass well above the socially acceptable halfway mark.  
He could feel Evan staring at him and refused to return his gaze, not wanting to look into those blue eyes and be greeted with desperation or pity or whatever else Evan must be feeling after this fucking disaster of a meal. They sat in mostly awkward silence for a couple minutes until Zoe returned.  
As she was taking her seat, the waiter walked by and she waved to get his attention.  
"We're ready for the check," she announced firmly and he nodded and continued on.  
"Now wait a minute, does anybody want desert or anything?" Cynthia asked.  
"No, Mom, no one wants desert," Zoe sighed. "Did you ever hear back from Apple about getting your laptop fixed?"  
Zoe had chosen a good topic. Cynthia launched into a story about her frustrations with applecare and all the contradicting things she'd been told by different employees, chatting animatedly, while the other four glanced off into nowhere, zoning out.  
The waiter brought the check and a few to-go boxes, "you boys can heat up the leftovers in your dorm," Cynthia suggested.  
In the back of his mind, Connor made a mental note to pass off as many leftovers as he could to Evan, since all he would do is throw them away, and Evan actually deserved nice, expensive food.  
The skin on the back of his neck tingled and he glanced over to see Zoe staring at him, eyes slightly narrowed, though whether in concern or annoyance, Connor couldn't tell. She noticed him returning her gaze and looked away.  
Even though he hadn't kept his meal down, Connor's mind felt clearer now that he had eaten.  
Evan grabbed his hand on the walk out to the car, a move that meant more to Connor than Evan could know, that Evan still felt comfortable enough, even after that disaster, to reach out and show affection towards Connor in front of his family.  
Connor raised up Evan's hand to kiss the back of it, squeezing gently as if to say, "thank you."  
They were all fairly quiet on the drive back. Cynthia turned on the radio quietly, but the song that happened to be playing was obnoxious, and Larry slapped the button to turn it off. When they got back to campus Zoe grasped her backpack and climbed out of the car.  
"I'm staying with the boys," she informed her mom. Cynthia opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it and nodded, plastering a tired smile on her face.  
She glanced at Connor, who shrugged as if to say he was fine with it, so they all exchanged slightly awkward hugs before Cynthia and Larry drove off.  
Connor knew the weekend was far from over, but for now, he had a Friday night with his sister and his boyfriend, two of his favorite people, and he was gonna enjoy it if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there she is! enjoy! pls comment <3 anything, for real for real i literally will just be refreshing for the next couple days waiting for comments lmao. even if u don't think you have anything to say, i promise literally even just keysmashes are more encouraging than u know !!  
> anyway thank u for reading and you can find me on tumblr @veganconnor


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